


Heels Over Head - Season 1 Gap Fillers - Written by Miss Miko

by kellankyle



Series: Heels Over Head - Written by Miss Miko [1]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Gap Filler, M/M, Out of Character, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-23 12:49:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 106,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10719663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellankyle/pseuds/kellankyle
Summary: It's always better the second day….





	1. Jambalaya

**Author's Note:**

> These wonderful stories were written by Miss Miko. She has given me permission to post these as a collection on her behalf. This is a fully completed story which will be posted as a 5 part series. Enjoy!
> 
> Summary from Heels Over Head.
> 
>  **Ratings:** All stories are NC-17+ (some NC-17+infinity)  
>  **Note:** All stories are in chronological order  
>  **Warning:** These stories are not for the QAF purist and feature non-canon characters and situations. If you're only interested in reading about Brian and Justin as they are on the show, don't waste your time with these stories, just pop in your DVDs or VHS tapes and knock yourself out.

"What about you?" Michael asked, the enticing scent of Brian's cologne wafting in the wake of his imminent departure.

Brian paused and replied, "I've got somebody waiting." Then, with no further explanation, he left, as he was wont to do, without saying good-bye.  
Hearing Brian turn the lock, Justin's stomach immediately knotted up and he took a deep breath and let it out slowly to relax the tense muscles. Continued to dish up two servings of the jambalaya from yesterday. Surveyed the kitchen and the dining area to make sure everything was perfect. At a thought checked his breath. Okay. Everything was perfect.

Ordinarily it wouldn't have taken Brian very long to slide open the door to his loft but tonight was different from every other night he had spent here: tonight, someone was waiting for him to come home. Reminding himself for the hundredth time that Justin was only a kid, only seventeen and still at the age when everything had the potential, the ability to hurt, he made a promise to himself to be kind, and if not kind, not to wound. He smelled the jambalaya before he saw his houseguest.

"Hey. You hungry?" The breezy tone in his voice hid his nervousness.

He laid his jacket over the back of one the barstools by the counter where Justin stood, presiding over the meal he had prepared. "Not really," Brian replied.

But Justin ignored him, took up the two plates and carried them to the table. "You have to eat something."

His eyes following the teenager, Brian gazed at the table set for two: two white candles and a clear vase containing a pale green plant complimented the black linen napkins and sleek flatware. Justin placed the plates at their respective spots at opposite ends of the table and sat down waiting. "So… what's for dinner?"

"Jambalaya from last night."

Recalling his private vow, Brian took his seat and removed his napkin from its silver ring.

Justin couldn't quite meet Brian's eyes, not after what had happened. He could still see the guy in the Hotlanta tee-shirt kneeling at Brian's feet, tearing open his jeans. Still blushed when he thought of the scene he had staged at Lindsay's and Mel's house. God, what a drama princess he was turning out to be. But Brian-Brian made him do those things.

The object of his thoughts had taken a spoonful of the jambalaya and was chewing reflectively. He looked over at Justin who lifted his eyes under Brian's scrutiny. "Not bad."

The smile that had been bubbling inside him like hot lava spilled over his face. He lifted his own fork. "It's always better the second day."

Brian paused. The words were meant to include more than just the food. Studying the teenager's face as he ate, he privately acknowledged a newfound respect for the kid. Most people couldn't have taken the licks Brian had given him the night before and come back, self-esteem intact and ready for the next round. And that smile. Even he had to admit that when Justin smiled… Taking up another bit of the jambalaya he found himself returning the smile, just a slight one that flittered about his lips, but one that would definitely be taken as a sign of encouragement by Justin. Sure enough, Justin glanced up at him from beneath thick lashes, content for the moment just to be with Brian.

Of course his contentment could only last for so long; like Mikey and Emmett, Justin didn't seem entirely comfortable with silence. Brian watched him struggle not to say something and lose. Raising an eyebrow, he waited for the boy to speak.

"You were like some kind of knight in shining armor today." He grinned. "Coming to my rescue on your trusty, black steed."

A laugh erupted from Brian's belly before he had a chance to clamp down on it. "You were about to get your ass kicked."

Justin disagreed. "I could have taken care of those guys." He thought about it. "Okay, maybe one or two of them." Paused and began on a more serious note. "I'm really glad you showed up."

"Well, we're even. Dinner for a daring rescue," said Brian waving his fork.

His voice dropped in volume, having to say hard things. "And thanks for what you said to my dad. And for letting me stay here."

The mention of Justin's dad caused the vein in Brian's temple to throb. His jaw tightened and he turned his attention to his food for a few moments to give himself time to think of some way to respond without calling the kid's dad the second biggest asshole alive-the first being his old man. "Let's not have an Oprah moment, okay?"

Justin frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It means we don't have to talk this to death."

Cocking his head, Justin said, "I like to talk."

In a deadpan, "I've noticed."

Finishing up his jambalaya Justin asked, "Why do you think that is?"

Brian answered, "Having met your mom, I'd say it's genetic. She wouldn't shut up."

Justin stuck out his tongue. "I mean, why don't you like to talk?"

Holding his tie out of the way, Brian stood and took their plates over to the sink. "There are better things to do with your mouth and tongue." He scraped the plates and placed them in the dishwasher. Scanned the kitchen then fixed Justin with a steady look. "No dessert?"

Justin brought the glasses and passed them to Brian who loaded them as well. "I could run down to the café on the corner-"

"Forget it," Brian whispered, taking Justin in his arms. Backing the boy against the counter, he crushed his mouth upon Justin's, his breath harsh against the teen's soft skin as lips pressed against lips. Justin gasped as Brian began to nibble upon his neck and earlobe. Abandoning Justin's lobes, Brian buried his face in the hollow of his throat, licking his way up to the boy's chin. Then dragging his tongue over Justin's bottom lip, he caught it between his own lips and sucked hard upon the swollen fold of flesh. He drew away, hazel eyes bright, pupils large. "See? Isn't that better than talking?"  


Smooth skin against skin, broad palms spread over his chest and belly, Justin loved being held by Brian. He leaned back against Brian's chest, feeling his lover's cock heavy against his buttocks, twitching with the beginnings of an erection. Kissing along his neck, Brian stroked Justin's cinnamon nipples with one hand and cupped his groin with the other. Justin sighed as one hand encircled his cock, sliding lightly along the shaft while the other pinched and gently twisted the ring in his right nipple. And throughout it all the kisses continued, across his shoulders, down his spine, between his shoulder blades.

Feeling the nubs on Justin's chest harden, Brian abandoned his nipples and used both hands on his cock, massaging the shaft, fondling his balls, stroking the soft flesh of his inner thighs. Justin arched his back, head lolling about his lover's chest, as Brian rubbed the tip of his cock. "Oh…oh…" he murmured until Brian released him and eased a finger inside his mouth. He sucked the finger, wetting it with his saliva, before Brian withdrew and brushed the tip of his cock, traced the edges of the flared head. Justin felt his cock harden in Brian's hands and wanted nothing more than to thrust against his palm but Brian wouldn't let him move, saying, "Be still," whenever he shifted in the least bit. "You belong to me. I saved your life, didn't I?" He muttered his assent. "Then be still. This is my reward."

The muscles in Brian's arm tensed and relaxed as he stroked Justin's cock, his fingers mapping a trail from base to tip, making note of ridges and bumps, channels and divides. Justin grabbed his free hand and held it against his hip, mouth wide open, panting, as he fought the urge to jab and lunge. The muscles of his thighs and belly were taut. Brian's cock had reared up between his cheeks, he could feel the head at the top of his ass. A rivulet of saliva ran down his chin from the corner of his mouth. Below, his cock had begun to leak, precum beading at the tip and then dripping towards the floor. Brian held his hand below the sticky strand and used the precum to moisten his palm. He closed his hand about Justin's cock and pulled hard on the turgid shaft. Justin cried out and shuddered as a spasm of pleasure passed through his body.

Brian released him and knelt in front of him. Lapped at the teenager's sac, which had drawn up tight against his cock. Hissing, Justin grabbed Brian's head in his hands and rubbed his balls against his open mouth. When no admonishments came from the man at his feet, he reached down and angled his cock towards his lover's lips. Brian opened up and allowed Justin to slide almost halfway into his mouth. Pressing his hands into his buttocks, Brian signaled for him to stop and he did. Almost immediately, Brian began to suck him, his tongue twirling about his shaft deliciously, causing his toes to curl against the rug. From mid-shaft back up to the head, Brian laved Justin's dick repeatedly, his tongue washing over his hardened flesh with practiced ease. Lips closing around the head of Justin's cock, Brian hard sucked him until the head began to swell again and he thought he would swoon. Then Brian's head dipped and his entire cock disappeared inside the older man's mouth. He felt the tip of his dick rub the back of Brian's throat. Brian growled around his meat causing the most exquisite trembling throughout his body. He felt Brian's lips on his nipples, his throat, his spine, his buttocks, there was no inch of his body that hadn't been touched by his mouth. His anus clenched and he moaned, wanting to feel Brian deep inside him but unwilling to have those lips unwrap from around his dick. God, he was so close.

As if he had heard Justin's thoughts, Brian allowed him to slide from his throat and out of his mouth. He stood and pushed Justin back onto the bed. Crawled over next to him. His own cock was erect, swaying in front of him. Lying on his back at Justin's side, Brian drew the teenager over on top of him. Their cocks brushed against one another. Hands laying lightly on Justin's back, Brian remained supine, handing the reins over to Justin. His thighs opened, beckoning. Understanding, Justin lowered himself onto Brian and began rubbing his cock against Brian's. Brian hissed between his teeth and opened the drawer in the nightstand. "Here." He popped the top and squeezed the lubricant into Justin's open palm, dropped the tube on the floor, uncaring because Justin had grabbed his dick and begun coating it with long, even strokes. Brian's cock glistened. Giving his own a few strokes, Justin lowered himself once more and began thrusting against Brian's groin. Their slippery cocks were like two river otters, sliding over and under one another, muscles flexing in play. Taking his dick in hand, Justin rubbed it against Brian's plump sac, loving the moan he elicited from his partner. Justin lowered his head, face pressed into Brian's shoulder, and began to grind his cock against his partner's, whimpering as his buttocks rose and fell. Brian eased his head up by his hair. "Let me see." And Justin straddled Brian's hips, and grabbing his cock in his fist, began beating his meat. The muscles in his neck stood out like cords of steel as he jerked himself off. With a cry he let loose a creamy wad of cum which flew from the tip of his dick to land on Brian's chest. "Yeah…" breathed Brian. Again and again, his balls contracted until he had released his entire load. Brian's torso was streaked with his efforts.

Justin let his head hang as he caught his breath. And was confronted with the sight of Brian's fully erect, throbbing cock. His muscles still trembling a little, he took hold of his lover's dick and tugged. Brian closed his eyes and opened his mouth, the tip of his tongue visible. Justin gave him another jerk and he groaned. The head of his cock expanded and the slit opened spraying Justin's hand and arm with cum. With each pull of Justin's hand, Brian's cock erupted until his balls were empty.

Pulling the teenager down upon him, they lay together, hearts still racing, bodies sticky, hot, cooling in the aftermath of sex. Justin kissed Brian's chest over his heart and murmured, "Much better than talking."


	2. Bad Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin is punished for lying to Brian. Takes place while they were living together.

"Where's Sunshine?" asked Deb, taking out her order pad. "Don't tell me you dumped him somewhere?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "I'm not a camp counselor."

"And if you were, what camp would that be?" asked Ted. "Camp Fuck-a-Lot?"

Michael, Em, and Deb laughed while Brian said nothing, just stuck out his tongue.

"So where is the Boy Wonder?" asked Michael, unnecessarily consulting the menu.

Stretching his arm out along the back of the seat, Brian nudged Michael's head and replied, "Having din-din with Daphne."

Deb smiled. "I like her. She's cute. They're both cute." She snorted. "Too bad she doesn't have a cock. Your problems would be solved, Brian."

"How," inquired Michael. "You think Justin would go for her instead?"

"Nah. Just that with two of them to satisfy, he'd be too tired to go out and get into trouble."

The entire table burst out laughing, even Brian.

"So what'll it be, boys? And, by the way, Brian, we're out of your favorite."

Regretting it even as he asked, he said, "And what would that be?"

Eyes twinkling with mischief, she replied, "Chicken." 

 

After dinner they headed over to Babylon's to work off, as Brian said, "Four coronaries and twenty pounds of fat on our asses."

"Well," quipped Emmett, "you could use some extra padding back there."

Flipping him the finger, Brian strode out in front and up the stairs to Babylon.

They grabbed four beers and took up posts along the upper level rail overlooking the dance floor. Ted paused with his beer upturned and said, "Isn't that Justin down there?"

"Where?" asked Michael.

Ted pointed. "There."

Emmett laughed. "Dinner with Daphne, huh? Looks like you're not the only one who likes to play, Brian."

"Good," growled Brian. "Maybe he'll find someone else to irritate." He finished his beer and placed the empty bottle on the floor at their feet. "I'm going to dance."

"Uh-oh," Em warned.

The other three watched as he made his way down to the dance floor, on the prowl, eyes sweeping the crowd in search of new prey. Which, coincidentally, he seemed to find in the vicinity of Justin. Their eyes met briefly and then Brian attracted the attention of a nearby guy. Almost immediately they began to put on a down and dirty show, crotches rubbing and hands on asses. Justin, momentarily taken aback, returned his focus to his partner and they too kicked it up a notch. As if responding to an unheard signal, the men around them shifted their awareness to the two couples.

Above them Em, Ted, and Michael shook their heads in disbelief. How did Brian constantly keep things heated up like that? It was if he lived for nothing except to fuck. And they knew that wasn't true. He was fanatical about his job and just as good at advertising as he was at fucking. He exuded sex. No. he was sex. Embodied. And at that moment his body was being appreciated by a group of three guys: his original partner plus two others who had pushed through the crowd to be with him. They surrounded him and jostled with one another for his attention.

Justin, dismayed, watched as the men lead Brian to the back.

Overhead, Ted said incredulously, "Three guys?"

Em sulked. "Greedy bastard."

Brian allowed his partners free rein with his body. One was busy kissing him, while the second one pushed up his shirt and sucked his tits, and the third tore open his pants and grabbed his cock. With so many competing sensations coursing through his body he was surprised that he even noticed when Justin entered the back room. Fuck! He had told Justin never to come back here, had refused to take him inside himself. It was no place for a kid. And here he was, despite all the warnings, with some trick. Well, fuck him. If he thought he was big enough to take care of himself, then let him. He had better things to do than to look after some snot-nosed kid. Like enjoying the trio of talented tongues at work on his body.

He knew Brian had seen him. Even though he appeared oblivious to everything, Justin had felt Brian's awareness shift for a second to himself. Of course, he remembered Brian's warnings. Well, fuck him, if he could come back here, high on something, with three guys, he was safe with just one. And he was stone-cold sober. Besides the guy only wanted to suck him off. That's what he kept whispering. Justin let him push him back against the wall and unzip his pants. He inhaled as the guy knelt, eased down his pants and briefs, and pounced on his dick.

"Well," asked Emmett, who had seen Justin heading for the back room, "is somebody going back there and dragging him out or what?"

Michael shook his head. "No fucking way. He's a big boy. Besides, Brian's back there."

"Honey, I am talking about Brian."

Aware that both Emmett and Ted expected him to do something, he swore, "Fuck," and handed Ted his beer.

"Toodle-loo," waved Emmett, turning the motion into his latest dance craze, the Praise Jesus.

Ted rolled his eyes and moved away from him. "Christ."

Michael entered the back room to find Brian lying on top of a flat surface. His three partners had divided his body into zones: one worked over his chest, one sucked his cock, and the other was eating out his ass. Wanting to look anywhere except at his best friend being serviced, Michael caught a glimpse of Justin being blown not five feet away. Fuck, they weren't easy on one another. Ignoring the glares the three men gave him, Michael leaned over Brian's head and said, "Come on. You're going home."

His eyes were glazed over. He muttered, "In a minute." Revised his statement. "Five minutes."

But Michael held his face and said firmly in a voice that brooked no argument, "No. Now." He slapped him lightly to snap him out of the haze he was in and then announced to the three guys still working on him, "Okay, guys. Kitchen's closed. He's going home." Then to Brian, "Get up."

Groggily, Brian complied and the three tricks begrudgingly released him.

"Pull up your pants and let's go." He shot a look over at Justin who was watching him with an open mouth. "You too, Boy Wonder. We're going back to the Bat Cave."

By the time they stumbled through the door to Brian's loft, the effects of the drug he had taken had begun to wear off. He slouched on one of the bar stools with his head propped on his hand. Michael pushed back his head. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

He let him go. "Good." Then to Justin, "That means you can slide up and down the Bat Pole all night if you want. I'll bring the jeep back tomorrow."

Justin watched him go, unsure of what might happen now that he was gone. Brian hadn't said two words to him since leaving Babylon. Had sat up front with Michael instead of in back with him. Thinking it might be better if he just slept on the sofa, Justin went over to the couch and started undressing. After a few moments, he heard Brian get up and grab some water. Then he climbed the steps to his bedroom on surprisingly steadier legs than the ones that had come inside the door just minutes before. Justin forced himself not to look around, instead dropped off the last of his clothes, grabbed the afghan from the back of the sofa and snapped it open.

"Justin."

He turned and looked.

Brian was naked except for a pair of black bikini briefs. He crooked his finger at Justin who hesitated before complying. When Justin got within reach, Brian took hold of his arm in a firm grip. "I thought I told you, stay out of the back room."

Justin looked up into his eyes, hoping to see a hint of a reprieve. There was none. "You did."

"You were supposed to be at dinner with Daphne."

"We finished early?" It was more question than statement.

Brian lowered his face to Justin's and said, "I think you should be punished." And then the tip of his tongue emerged and Justin knew that it was okay. Brian released him and sat on the bed with his back against the headboard. "I'm waiting." Justin climbed onto the bed and started to sit next to Brian when Brian said, "Uh-uh. Bend over." Pause. "Over my lap."

Heart beating rapidly, unsure as to what Brian was going to do, Justin got to his knees and then laid across Brian's lap, his groin against Brian's thigh. Slowly, he felt Brian pull down his underwear, exposing his buttocks. And then he felt Brian's hand cup one of his cheeks. His cock stirred. Maybe this wouldn't-

Thwack! The first blow startled him and it was a moment before he realized what had happened, that Brian had smacked his ass. Hard. His skin stung. Just as he was about to complain that Brian had hit him too hard, another blow landed right in the same spot. He started to raise up but Brian laid a hand between his shoulders and pressed down. "Stay." Another smack, this time on the other cheek. Justin squirmed but didn't struggle. Seven more times Brian slapped his ass, five blows for each buttock. By the time he finished Justin's ass was red and tender but something else had happened. He actually had begun to get excited by the blows. He was certain Brian could feel his erection pressing against his thigh. But if he did, he gave no sign of it.

Releasing Justin, he said, "Go get the lotion from the bathroom." Just did so and at Brian's command laid face down on the bed. He hissed at first as Brian applied lotion to his tingling ass, but soon Brian's talented hands had him rubbing his hard-on against the comforter. That only lasted a moment as Brian said in a sharp voice, "Turn over." Carefully, Justin turned over onto his back, expecting to feel a shock of pain when his tender ass met the surface of the comforter but it didn't hurt. He felt a little sore, that's all. And even that was turning him on. Who would have thought getting a spanking would be so erotic? He started to wrap his hand around his cock when Brian barked, "Don't." He climbed over Justin and looked down at him. "I don't think you've been punished enough." Justin was about to protest and then he thought, If this is his idea of punishment, bring it on.

Brian left the bed and rummaged in his toy chest. Returned with a blindfold. Threw it down on Justin's chest. "Put it on." Justin slipped it over his head and adjusted it over his eyes. "Good. Now stretch out." Justin opened his legs and raised his arms until he formed a pale X. "The more you move, the more you'll be punished." Justin heard him in the chest again. "The more noise you make, the more you'll be punished. Got it?" Instead of answering or doing anything, Justin remained still and silent. "Good boy."

Justin licked his lips, completely ignorant of Brian's intentions. The man hadn't moved for a minute or more since returning to the bed and kneeling at his side. At best, Justin supposed he was just looking at him, but he couldn't tell for sure. The idea of Brian savoring his naked body turned him on more than anything else had tonight and he felt his cock twitched. And then something struck his cock. It felt like a broad, sable brush, incredibly soft. Forgetting Brian's instructions, he gasped and arched his back. "Bad boy." The brush returned, covering the head of his cock entirely. Biting his lip he pressed down against the bed with his hips. "Better. But you still moved." The brush began to move in lazy circles around his cock head. Traveled down his shaft. Over his balls. Down between his thighs. Probing for his hole. Justin thought he would go crazy with desire. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he fought to remain still, to remain quiet. Something trickled down his cock. Precum.

The brush moved, tickled his right nipple, lifting the metal ring. Grateful that the cock torture had ended, Justin thought he had a better chance of enduring this. And then Brian began to speak as he worked, moving from nipple to nipple. "I wish you had a foreskin. I would slide it back over your dick and lick your cock head until you screamed." The combination of strokes to his nipples and talk about his cock caused his shaft to throb. Mouth open, he panted openly now, uncaring if it earned him further punishment. The brush stroked his bottom lip. "I would spit on the tip and let the skin roll back over, and use it to spread my saliva all over the head." Justin's head lolled about on the bed as his cock stretched towards his belly button, leaking freely now. The brush continued to stroke his lips. "I would bring our dicks together and stretch your skin over my cock. Can't you feel it? Our dicks kissing. Holes open and pressed together like tiny mouths." A gush of precum flowed over Justin's stomach.

Justin felt the brush leave his mouth and move over his belly. Then, the tip wet, Brian used it to paint his nipples with precum, dipping into his navel to coat it with clear liquid too. At that point Justin began to whimper. He couldn't last much longer even if he wanted and he didn't. He wanted to come like he had never wanted to before. His balls ached and he knew it would take only one little something more to release him. Brian began to speak again. "I would jack us off until we came, filling your skin with creamy cum," and as he spoke, Brian reached down and caught hold of Justin's swollen cock and ran his thumb over the moist head. Justin cried out and a fountain of cum spewed from his slit. It fell in thick drops upon his chest and Brian's fist. Each time Brian's thumb moved over his hole, Justin gasped and the cum geysered. Finally, empty, he collapsed upon the bed, trying to get back his bearings. Brian let go of his cock and ran his hands through Justin's cum, spreading it over his body, inducing a last surge of pleasure. Then he removed the blindfold and kissed Justin hard upon the mouth, his tongue flickering inside. He pulled away. "Now you know what happens to bad, little boys. So what's it gonna be?" Brian asked sitting up against the headboard again. He rose up and slipped off his briefs, his cock hard against his belly. "Good boy? Or bad boy?"

Justin got on his hands and knees and crawled between Brian's legs. Ran his tongue around Brian's cock head. "Bad," he replied, looking up into Brian's eyes. "Very, very bad."

Brian laid his head back as his cock disappeared inside Justin's mouth. "Good boy."


	3. Love Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Justin negotiate the terms of their relationship. This story takes place two days after Brian visits his dad at the bar.

Justin sat on the bottom step of the school sketching, trying to figure out what to do, where to go. He and Brian had argued the night before—although it wasn’t really an argument if one person walked out of the apartment in the middle of the other person’s sentence as if they hadn’t spoken at all, as if they suddenly ceased to exist. Any other night Justin would have followed him, to Babylon most likely, and forced Brian to acknowledge him, but last night he had come to the end of his reserves. Over a week away from his family, constantly battling the desire to go back, to try and fix things, knowing that the two things he couldn’t fix were the very things that kept him estranged from them: his feelings and his dad’s.

Then night before last Brian hadn’t come home, had just walked out of the apartment leaving him to study alone, didn’t say where he was going or anything. He had waited, fallen asleep on the couch in front of the TV where Ringo, Paul, John, and George were traveling around in a yellow submarine. Not surprisingly he had dreamt in Technicolor that night, waking around one o’clock from a dream where he was being chased by a giant fist with metal spikes all over its surface. Immediately he had stumbled from the couch to an empty bed. Six hours later he had awakened, sprawled over the middle of the bed. So Brian hadn’t come home.

He hadn’t wanted to nag him, had just wanted to know where he was. “I was worried,” he had told him and Brian had sneered and said in his coldest voice, “I don’t need babysitting,” implying that Justin did. Maybe it was the tone of voice, maybe it was that he really was trying to stay out of Brian’s way and it seemed that nothing he did was right, but that had really hurt, those four simple words. Even then, he’d tried to put a different spin on it, had said, “What if something had happened and I needed to reach you? What if something had happened to Gus?”

“Lindsay has my cellphone number,” Brian had replied, turning away from him and removing his work clothes. Carefully, Justin had watched him for clues as to what he had planned. When he slipped on a matte black sweater and a pair of black jeans Justin had known that he wasn’t staying in that night. And it had been a school night and he had really needed to study. The last thing he needed was for his grades to slip. Brian or no Brian, his parents would take him home or send him away to school and there would be nothing anyone could do. “Why can’t you stay home just one night? With me?” he had added although he hadn’t meant to, hadn’t wanted to do anything that would irritate Brian. Need irritated him. His own and others’.

Brian had turned and fixed him with a hard look. “I’m not a cruise director and this isn’t the Love Boat. Entertain yourself. I’m going out.” With that he had grabbed his leather coat and headed for the door.

“I just—” Justin had begun and then the door slid close and Brian had gone.

For an hour he had sat at the dining table staring at a closed book. Tears had dropped and pooled on the cover. Twice he had started for the door before stopping a few feet away from the table, exhausted. Finally, he had given up the pretense of studying altogether and gone to bed. Only he hadn’t slept. Just lay awake, staring up at the ceiling, the blue glow from the neon lights above the bed the only illumination in the entire apartment. And the bed had felt so empty without Brian, who was probably in the backroom at Babylon getting a blow job from some guy he had danced with for three minutes. At that moment he had wanted more than anything for the feelings he had for Brian to just disappear. It didn’t make any sense; this wasn’t a fairy tale where everyone lived happily ever after. It wasn’t even a bad teenager movie where in an hour and a half all problems were resolved, and everyone was with who they were supposed to be with, and they kissed at the end before the credits rolled and the rest of the soundtrack played. It was real life, and real life hurt and kept on hurting, and there was no one there to write the happy ending.

He had lain in the bed for two hours before hearing Brian’s key in the lock. At that, he had turned on his side and pretended to be asleep. Had heard Brian close the door and toss his keys on the counter. His steps had sounded steady when he climbed the stairs to the bedroom and undressed. Justin hadn’t smelled an undue amount of alcohol. Of course, he could have sniffed something. But if he had, he probably wouldn’t have been so sure on his feet. Brian had dropped off everything except his underwear and crawled under the sheets and gone to sleep without a word, without checking to see if Justin had been awake, without touching him at all. It was as if they had slept in twin beds, the gulf between them had been that wide.

This morning Brian had gotten him up early, announced that they were going to the Liberty Diner with Mikey for breakfast and then he would drop him off at school. He had showered and put on his uniform without remark. Brian hadn’t noticed, or if he did, he had probably been relieved that for once Justin hadn’t babbled on about something completely uninteresting and juvenile. Even when Michael had commented on his silence Brian hadn’t done anything but shrugged. As he got out of the jeep in front of the school Brian had asked him, “You want me to pick you up?” and he had answered that he would get Daphne to drop him off . He hadn’t gotten the words out of his mouth good before Brian had taken off like a lynch mob was after him.

Now he sat on the front steps of the school, alone, no Daphne, having sent her on without him a half an hour ago. “I need to think,” he had told her. And he had. Continued to think. Something had to give, either Brian relented and admitted that he cared for Justin and treated him like a human being, or he would have to find somewhere else to live. Being on the receiving end of Brian’s remarks once in a while was one thing, but living with the constant, abrasive effects of his harshness was proving to be too much. He was only a kid, no matter how grown-up he tried to act, and he had no defenses against Brian. A tear slipped from beneath his lid and he wiped it away angrily. Fuck him, he thought, and the thought itself went up the center of his chest and caught in his throat. He closed his sketch pad and stuffed it in his bag.

Tires squealed to a halt. He looked up. Brian sat in the jeep, jaw tense, eyes forward. A moment passed. Then, “You coming?”

That did it. “No,” replied Justin. “Fuck you.” Grabbing his bag, he slung it over one shoulder and started away from school.

“Where are you going?” Brian asked from the jeep.

“Home,” he answered.

“There’s—” began Brian.

“My home. My parents’ home,” explained Justin.

At that Brian got out of the jeep and came around to the front. Leaned against the hood, arms crossed over his chest, watching Justin walk down the sidewalk. “Just like that.”

Justin paused. “Yeah. Just like that.”

Brian uncrossed his arms and pushed off from the hood. “I’ll take you to get your stuff.”

Determined that Brian wouldn’t see him weaken, Justin returned to the jeep and got in without saying anything. They drove in silence to the building. Took the elevator without exchanging a word. Brian slid open the door and walked in ahead of Justin, threw down his keys, and dropped onto the couch.

Justin found his duffel bag and suitcase in the closet and placed them on the bed. Pulled his clothes from the drawers Brian had cleared for him and stuffed them inside haphazardly. He remembered his mom bringing the suitcase over while Brian was still at work. She had come inside tentatively, wanting very much to know what kind of home Brian kept, but at the same time, afraid of seeing something she didn’t want to see, of finding out more than she would be able to absorb. She hadn’t, of course. Brian was fanatically neat, kept everything in its place, especially his collection of sex toys. Always scrubbed and ready for action.

Lifting his head over the back of the sofa, Brian said, “Those are mine.” Justin was just about to put a pair of white, mid-thigh briefs into his duffel bag.

“Sorry.” Justin tossed them onto the pillow.

“What are you going to tell your dad?” asked Brian, retreating once more behind the back of the couch. Justin could see the top of his head on the arm of the chair.

“That I’ll never see you again. That’s what he wants. What you want, isn’t it?” He jammed a pair of jeans down into his suitcase and sat on the bed with his back to the living room and Brian.

Rising from the sofa, Brian entered the bedroom, stood in the doorway. “Look, I told you when you moved in here that I don’t do lovers or companions or boyfriends or whatever the hell else you want to call it. I was honest with you and I won’t apologize for my life.”

“I’m not asking you to. But you’re not honest. You say that all we do is fuck, but it’s more than that. What we do together isn’t the same as what you do in the backroom of Babylon or with some stranger.”

“It’s the same thing,” Brian said slowly, emphasizing every word.

“No, it isn’t! I know it isn’t. Because…” Justin faltered. “Because I feel something when we’re together. It’s not just fucking.”

“Justin…”

He hung his head for a moment, then looked up. “I just—I just wish you’d—” He stopped, unable to go on.

“I’d what?” asked Brian in a much gentler voice.

“Why can’t you admit that you feel something for me? That you’re glad to see me when I get home, that I make you smile sometimes…” He glanced away, unable to face the blank expression on Brian’s face. “It wouldn’t kill you.”

Brian gripped the frame of the doorway as if he could remold the wood. “And that would be enough? For me to say that I’d miss you if you were gone?” He paused. “And then what? If I said that, then what would you want? What else? How long would it be before you’d expect me to bring you flowers, or take you out to celebrate a week’s anniversary or some other meaningless bullshit? I won’t do it. I won’t start something that I can’t, won’t see through to the end. If what we have right now isn’t enough…” He half-turned.

“But what do we have?”

Brian’s jaw tightened. “You live in my house, sleep in my bed—”

“You put up with me!” exclaimed Justin. “You don’t want me here. You said so yourself.”

“But you’re still here,” countered Brian.

Justin threw down a shirt. “What does that mean?” he asked angrily.

“It’s a statement of fact,” Brian replied.

“I know you have feelings.”

Confused, Brian asked, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You act as if nothing touches you. You have a kid, no big deal. Michael’s—”

“Leave him out of this.”

But Justin continued, “Michael’s been in love with you for fifteen years and you won’t even finish jerking him off! You act like you don’t even know he’s in love with you.”

Cold, as cold as the wind off the Allegheny, Brian said, “You don’t know shit about Mikey and me.”

“Because everything’s a fucking state secret with you. You don’t share anything.”

“This isn’t a slumber party and we aren’t playing Truth or Dare! If that’s what you want, go live with your little friend.” He started to back down the stairs, halted, and angrily slapped the doorframe, frustrated, out of words.

Softly, Justin asked, “Who was it?”

Brian lifted his head wearily. “Who was it what?”

“Who was it that broke your heart? And made you afraid to love anyone?”

Hazel eyes clouded, Brian asked in a husky voice, “What makes you think I’ve ever loved anyone? You know I don’t believe in love.”

“I know I can’t make you love me if you don’t. I know that,” Justin said, more to himself than to Brian. Tears streaked his face but he got up and resumed packing.

“Justin.” He didn’t answer or stop. Brian moved closer, laid a hand atop his. “You don’t have to go.”

Without looking at him, Justin replied, “Maybe I do.” He took a deep breath. “I…”

Brian cupped his face and kissed him softly. Kissed the tears that had run down his cheeks. Justin tried to pull away but Brian wouldn’t let go. Again he kissed the teenager, harder this time. Despite his private resolve, Justin began to relent. Opening his mouth, he returned the kiss with equal fervor. Then he pulled away. Brian, with a smile playing about his lips, watched him stumble backwards. He took off his jacket, brushed by Justin, and hung it in the closet. Then, the boy still in view, he removed his shirt and laid it atop the dresser, took off his shoes and socks. But instead of forcing the issue, he left the bedroom, crossed to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. Drained it and sat the empty container on the counter. Justin took the opportunity to finish packing his clothes and, closing the suitcase, picked it and his duffel bag up and headed for the door. “Run home, little boy,” taunted Brian. “Come back when you’re all grown up, and we can play.”

Brian’s words went through him like a winter chill. He froze in place. Heard Brian move, pad across the floor on bare feet, climb the steps to the bedroom. Then came the sound of something dropping to the floor, and then the bed creaking. At that point Justin couldn’t have stopped himself from looking. Glancing around he saw Brian lying naked upon the duvet, eyes closed. For a moment he looked as if he were asleep. God, when he was asleep, he looked like an angel. Not the kind they talked about on TV who were like children with wings or pretty ladies, but one of those real Old Testament angels who had gazed upon the naked face of Jehovah and out of love/devotion/lust done all his dirty work. Their angelic faces innocent of all wrongdoing. Their arms covered in blood. That’s how Brian looked when he slept. Innocent. But you only had to look at his body to tell that he wasn’t.

Slowly, Justin put down his bags. And even then he didn’t rush over to the bed. He stood where he was and thought about his options. About what Brian offered and didn’t. What he himself was willing to accept and in exchange for what. He took a step towards the bedroom. Brian opened his eyes; met and held his. He tried to look only at his face, to ignore the body and its promises of pleasure. God, the body distracted even as it warned. Throat tightened, Justin felt his eyes slide down Brian’s face to rest in the hollow of his throat. And from there it was only a matter of making the most minute of shifts to find himself studying his chest with its wide nipples. But that wasn’t enough. Not only did want the nipples, he wanted the lean torso, the flat belly. Hungrily he devoured Brian with his eyes. Savoring the cinnamon brown thatch of hair at his groin, the sleeping cock nestled there; the slender thighs and calves; the perfectly arched feet.

Trembling, Justin climbed the steps to the bed. Brian sat up, his head cradled by two grey pillows. Unshed tears making his eyes shiny, Justin undressed. Stood naked by the foot of the bed, goosebumps rising on his bare skin. Eyes fixed on Justin’s, Brian got to his knees, crawled to the end of the bed and sat with his feet firm on the floor. He took Justin’s hand and tugged until the teen responded, climbing onto Brian, his knees pressed into the mattress on either side of Brian’s hips. Brian kissed him over his heart. Whispered, “I love… the way your skin feels when I touch you. I love touching you.” He brushed his lips over Justin’s left shoulder. “I love your smile,” he said looking up into Justin’s face. And slowly a smile appeared, tinged with tears but a smile nonetheless. Sure that he had Justin’s attention, Brian continued. “I love hearing you call my name when you come. I love the way you moan. I love feeling you tight around me. I love being inside you. I love waking up with your arm against my hip.” A tear fell from Justin’s face onto Brian’s. “And I love it when you cry and pretend it’s your allergies." When Justin started to protest, Brian laughed and then Justin did too. "I love dancing with you even though I have to scooch down to look into your eyes. I love your ey—” Justin leaned over and smothered Brian’s mouth with his own. When Justin let him up for air, Brian grinned and asked, “Enough?”

“Shut up and fuck me,” Justin growled, pressing his lips to Brian’s once more. 

Fifteen minutes later he was holding onto Brian’s shoulders and moaning, squirming as Brian held a vibrating plug in place, deep inside his ass. Mouth opened, he panted, the muscles in his stomach churning, as he fought to keep from screaming, uttering little cries instead. But Brian licked his throat and whispered fiercely, “Go on. Say it. Say it!”

And he cried, “Brian! Brian,” in a high, breathless voice.

Brian ground the plug against his hole, mouth wet against Justin’s neck. “That’s it, baby. That’s it that’s it.” He sucked on the carotid vein, felt it pulsate against his tongue, let his teeth graze the skin. “Shout for me.”

Hips jerking, cock sliding up Brian’s torso, rubbing against the muscles of his belly, Justin moaned deep in his throat, “Uhaahh,” the sound rising from the depths of his belly, as cum rose up his shaft and rained down upon Brian’s skin in thick, creamy droplets. Brian removed his fingers from the base of the plug and it began to slide from inside him, ejected by the force of his orgasm. He shuddered as the downpour continued, until his cock was sliding through puddles of cum.

Later, he snuggled up to Brian under the covers, head on his chest, and whispered, “Tell me again. All the things you love about me.”

So Brian told him again how much he loved his smile and his skin. Stroking Justin’s back with the pad of his thumb, Brian fell deep into thought. _I do love his smile and his skin and the way he moans and a dozen other things that I didn’t—couldn’t tell him… but I can do without those things_ , he told himself. Only instead of making him feel better as it had in the past when he recounted the things he could do without, for the first time he felt sadder, emptier, and the feeling persisted even as he drifted off to sleep.


	4. Close Shave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief interlude in which the Boy Wonder experiences the wonders of erotic shaving

The piece of plastic covering the leather chaise lounge crinkled beneath Justin as he shifted.

“Be still,” ordered Brian. He finished tying the last of the ropes to the chair’s metal frame.

Justin tested the ropes one last time. He was bound to the chair, legs drawn back over his chest, thighs open to expose his genitals and anus. Ropes were knotted around his arms and legs leaving the middle part of his body open to Brian’s ministrations. “Do we really need these?”

Surveying his work, Brian asked, “Do you want to be known as the ‘One-Nut Wonder’?” Justin shook his head. “I didn’t think so. Besides,” he grinned, “I like seeing you helpless. Dependent on me—”

“Aren’t I always?” When Brian didn’t answer, Justin tried to relax but another question burned to be asked. “Is this safe?”

Brian stood and leaned in over him. “Don’t you trust me?” He flicked his finger against Justin’s nipple ring. “After all, you let a complete stranger do this to you.”

“She was a licensed professional.”

A twinkle gleamed in Brian’s eye. “She probably printed it on her iMac.” He opened the razor’s top and checked the blade.

“Will you let me do you?”

He looked over at Justin. “Me? Let you near my nuts with a razor?” Sniggered. “Yeah. Well, we all have a dream.” Shook his head in amusement. “I have a guy. When I start to get shaggy, I give him a call.” Grinned. “If you’re good, I’ll let you watch sometime. He does me in his bathtub.” Placing the razor on the side table, Brian removed a sponge from a bowl of water. Squeezed it out over Justin’s body. “It can get messy.”

“I like messy.”

“Kids. Now, be still.” Replacing the sponge, he squeezed a generous amount of shaving gel into the palm of his hand, rubbed his hands together, and worked up a good lather. As he spread the lather over Justin’s chest in ever widening circles, he talked. “First, he soaps me up. Just the places where he’s going to shave. And then all over cause he gets me so fuckin’ hot I want him to touch me everywhere. My arms, my thighs, legs, back, feet.” His hands made their way down Justin’s torso to his groin. Making a tunnel of his fist, he soaped the teen’s cock. Massaged lather into his pubic hair and down between his thighs. Over his balls, down the strip of flesh between scrotum and anus, and finally between his buttocks. Justin’s head lolled about on the headrest of the lounger. “Then, after I’m covered in lather, he takes out his razor. He uses a straight razor—I’m not that good—and he shaves my chest. Slowly.” Brian picked up the razor. “You want the blindfold?”

Justin shook his head. “I wanna see.”

“Then open your eyes and look.” Razor held firmly between strong fingers, Brian began to shave the sparse patch of hair on Justin’s chest. “Right up to the nipple. In smooth, even strokes.” Justin shivered as Brian encircled his nipples and began to move down the middle of his torso. “Right down the pleasure line.”

“Pleasure line?”

“Right down here,” Brian replied, drawing the razor down his chest to his belly. He gave the teen’s flat stomach a couple of passes and heard Justin hiss. His back arched slightly. Taking the razor away, Brian flattened his palm over Justin’s belly and held it there a moment to steady him.

Raising his head Justin asked apprehensively, “Does he shave it all off?”

Brian smiled. “He leaves the bush. Sometimes I let him trim and shape it. But not too often. That’s just a little too faggoty. Don’t laugh,” he warned seeing Justin’s muscles tense. “And don’t move.”

Assured that he wouldn’t be completely naked, Justin relaxed. “Then what?”

“Then I lift my legs and he shaves my balls. By then I’m so hard I could come but I don’t. Not yet. Not. Yet,” he repeated.

“Okay.”

Pausing before continuing, Brian said, “Breathe.” Justin took a deep breath. “Let it out.” He did. One hand held gently against Justin’s cock and sac, Brian shaved the crease between his thigh and balls on one side and then the other. Careful not to make any sudden moves, he made his way over Justin’s sac, attentive to the boy’s slightest reaction, until his scrotum was smooth. He kissed a lather-free spot on Justin’s inner thigh. “There.”

“Will it itch?”

“When it starts to grow back.” He stroked the plump sac, pink from the attention it had received. “But it’ll be worth it.” Another dip in the water to clear the razor and he bent once more to his work. Continuing his story, he said, “Then I get on my hands and knees and he shaves my ass until it’s as smooth as a baby’s. I feel sorry for my hole. Poor, defenseless bud… Even though I know he’s careful, I can’t help it.” Justin’s hole tensed. “I always tighten up.” The razor glided over the perineum which was practically hairless to the area around Justin’s asshole which was surrounded by fine, blond wisps. More than once Brian had lapped at his hole, tongue flattening the hairs around it. Now, they disappeared beneath the head of the razor. Once all of the hairs had been removed, Brian squeezed more gel onto his finger. “But then he slips his finger inside, all slippery with lather,” and in went his finger. “I go crazy and he fucks me. His dick’s so hard it feels like iron.”

Trying to ignore the finger moving inside his ass, Justin asked, “You let him fuck you?”

Brian slowly twisted his finger as it slid in and out of Justin’s ass. “You don’t think I can take it? The best tops take it up the ass every now and then. If I know what feels good as a bottom, then I know what to do as a top.”

Eyelids fluttering, Justin inhaled sharply. Then, “So you like it?”

Opening his hole with a second finger, Brian countered with, “Don’t you?” No answer was necessary as Justin’s belly rippled and his hole tightened around Brian’s fingers. “By the time we’re finished, there’s water everywhere.”

Justin tried to move his hips to force Brian’s fingers deeper but Brian had done a good job of tying him down. “You need a bathtub.”

“Shower’s working fine.” His fingers slipped from Justin’s hole.

“Untie me.” Brian remained where he was. “Please.”

But instead of untying him, Brian stood and threw one leg over the chair so that he straddled Justin. Both their eyes were drawn to his erection. Taking hold of the back of the chaise lounge, Brian moved closer to Justin’s face. When Justin moved his head, Brian barked, “Lie still.” And then he rubbed his cock over Justin’s lips, teasing him, daring him to open his lips. “I think you want it. Don’t you?” Justin looked up to see if Brian was giving him permission. “Open wide.” Brian stared down into the inside of Justin’s mouth. Moving closer, he fed the teen his cock, sighing as it came to rest upon Justin’s tongue. Almost immediately, Justin began to suck him, letting Brian dictate how far up his shaft he got. Saliva ran down his chin as Brian slowly fucked his mouth, never thrusting hard enough or deep enough to gag him. His own cock was throbbing, he had a raging hard-on and wanted nothing more than for Brian to release him and fuck him, bring him off. Letting go of the back of the chair, head thrown back, Brian entwined both hands in his hair making it look even wilder than normal. Giving a groan, he pulled out and moved to the side of the lounger. Knelt and began to work at the ropes. Cursed when his knots proved to have been tied too well.

Meanwhile the lather had begun to dry and was itching Justin, which, combined with his erection, was about to drive him out of his mind. “Hurry,” he begged.

“Fuck!” barked Brian. He paused and took a deep breath. Tried to concentrate on something other than the desire to fuck Justin senseless. Tried to concentrate on the ropes. Clumsy fingers became dexterous and in a few moments he had the first of the knots undone. A few moments more and Justin was free. Taking a minute to give Justin’s muscles a chance to adjust, they hurried to the bathroom and into the shower. Two sets of hands fumbled at the knobs. Their mouths came together as the water pelted their skin, turning the dried gel back into lather. Brian filled his hands with Justin’s ass, working the two plump globes against one another. Reaching down between them, Justin cupped Brian’s dick, gently squeezing his sac while he used the man’s cock to stroke his own. Groaning into Justin’s mouth, Brian pulled away, turned Justin around, and pressed on his back. Justin flattened his hands against the wall, hips thrust back, legs spread wide. “Fuck!” Brian exited the shower, yanked open the medicine cabinet, grabbed a condom pack and tore it open.

“Hurry,” Justin urged, head hanging between his shoulders. His voice was muted by the glass walls and the pouring water but Brian heard him all the same.

Condom in place, Brian returned to the shower and wasted no time in burying his cock deep inside Justin’s ass. The teen shouted as Brian nailed him on every stroke, dick pressing against his prostate, sending electric shocks up his rectum. Shocks that, like a gear, seemed to wind him tighter and tighter. Breath ragged, he began to pant, mouth open, eyes closed. Brian pulled almost all the way out and then slammed into him, ripping a cry from his throat. He could feel Brian’s hands at the juncture of his hips, drawing him back and holding him firm as he began a series of short jabs signaling his oncoming orgasm. Squeezing his buttocks tight, he felt Brian’s dick head swell. Brian bellowed and jerked against him. Exhaled violently and jerked again. Ground his groin against Justin’s ass as he rode out his climax. Giving a final groan, Brian ceased to thrust, remained inside him as his heart rate slowed. Then, withdrawing, he went to his knees, and pressed his face between Justin’s cheeks. Gnawed and licked at the much abused lips of his asshole while the teenager whimpered and stroked his turgid cock. Brian thrust his tongue up into him and licked around the inner rim of his ass. Reaching between Justin’s thighs, he took over jacking his dick. Tongue working in his ass, Brian squeezed the head of Justin’s cock until it swelled and the first glob of cum struck the wall of the shower. Hands scrabbling to gain purchase on the slick surface of the shower, Justin shouted as Brian licked between his cheeks, hand still working on his erupting cock.

Coming out of the shower, having rested for a few moments, Justin looked around the bathroom and laughed. Brian cursed softly. Water had pooled on the floor around the shower. In his haste to fuck Justin he had forgotten to close the shower door. Justin splashed through it on the way to the kitchen to get the mop. Grinning, he sashayed out of the bathroom, tossing over his shoulder, “Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink…”


	5. Trick or Treat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian's online trick plays a trick on him! Takes place during the time Justin lived with Brian.   
> (No deep story here, it's all about sex!)

With the Boy Wonder over at Daphne's for the evening, Brian decided to cruise the chat rooms to see if anyone worth talking to was online tonight. Well, maybe talking to was over- or understating the case a little. After cruising Pittm4mnow for a few minutes, and feeling like he was stuck in the middle of a bargain basement menswear sale at the Big Q, he was about to log off when someone caught his eye. "Bountiful Bottom ISO a Total Top. Come check out my homepage, you won't be disappointed." The URL followed. He consulted his watch. What the hell. If it didn't pan out there was still time for a quick one at Babylon or Woody's. So he nibbled. Clicked on the link and waited for the page to load. Smiled. "Yes." Definitely had potential. Knowing that most guys monitored their email constantly if they were on the make, he dropped him a line. "How many inches can you take?"

Received a reply in about twenty seconds. "Whatever you've got plus three more."

Brian typed in his phone number as a response. In forty-five seconds his cellphone rang. "Sixth floor, corner of Tremont. I've got a foot long dildo and I want to see it disappear up your ass first, or you can get the fuck out without getting fucked. If you're not here in fifteen minutes, don't bother coming at all." Snapped his cellphone shut. Closing down his computer he went into the bedroom and knelt in front of his treasure chest. Flipped the lid and smiled as he removed the object of his desire. It had been a while since he'd come across a bottom willing to go the extra mile with this one. Maybe this guy was truly talented. Didn't matter. If he was cute and could take nine, he was in like Flint. As long as he was out by ten thirty which was when Justin was due back. Brian shook his head in amusement. Too bad Justin wasn't into threesomes. Of course, he had never asked...

The buzzer sounded exactly ten minutes later. Not bad. He pressed the lock-release button for the building and slid open the door to the loft. Waited for his guest to arrive. At the last minute he turned to give the apartment the once-over, hoping Justin hadn't left any of his shit lying around. He supposed he'd been the same way when he was seventeen, but Justin--

Someone cleared his throat.

He glanced around and paused. Blond, just like the page said, and blue-eyed. Full, red lips. Sure of himself, the trick sauntered past him, evidently in order to give Brian a view of the goods. He wore a tight, light blue t-shirt and a pair of cotton drawstring pants that showed off his plump ass to perfection. Brian ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. He'd do, even if he couldn't take all twelve inches of the dildo. But no need to tell him that right away. Brian closed the door to the loft and said, "Strip."

But instead of complying, Blondie cocked an eyebrow and checked out his host's body, specifically his basket. "You first. I wanna see what you've got."

Not one to back down, especially in his own den, Brian extended his claws. "Gotta get it hard first before you can take a true measurement."

The guy approached him. "And if it's not nine inches?"

"I don't think you'll care," he replied, pulling his shirt over his head and mussing up his hair. Stood feet apart, an open invitation implied in his stance.

His proposition was accepted. The trick got down on his knees and slowly unbuttoned Brian's fly to reveal a thatch of brown pubic hair. Despite himself, the young man made an appreciative noise and ran his fingers over and through Brian's bush. Eased the jeans over his slender hips to reveal his succulent cock. And then he was on it. Starting with the fat head and slowly making his way up the smooth shaft. By the time he turned his attention to Brian's balls, the rest of his dick was shiny with saliva. The trick's forehead became smeared with his own spittle as he burrowed behind Brian's cock to feast on his sac. After a few minutes of that, Brian eased him off and asked, "Well?" rather breathlessly.

In response the young man rose and began taking off his clothes. Brian grabbed him and kissed him roughly, untying and yanking down his pants to expose his bare ass. He filled his palms with firm flesh, kneading the plump mounds as they gnawed on each other's lips.

Somehow they made it to the bedroom. The moment they climbed the last step, Brian indicated to his partner that he should grab onto the edge of the low chest of drawers in front of him, which he did. Brian kissed down his back, using his tongue to trace the knobs of his spine. He knelt, his tongue disappeared between the young man's cheeks eliciting a sigh and then a groan as Brian parted his buttocks and began rimming him in earnest. The Bountiful Bottom's lips trembled both above and below. Tongue encircling his hole, Brian reached between the trick's thighs and took hold of his dick. Began stroking it. And the webpage had been right about that too: he wasn't disappointed. In fact, he wanted more.

Leaving off licking his ass, Brian began sucking his cock, his lips sliding up and then down the shaft, his undulating tongue causing tremors in the trick's dick. But it still wasn't enough. He pressed the pad of his thumb over the blond's asshole and began fingering him, thumb pumping his hole until groans of pleasure filled the air. That was better. When he'd judged that the man had had enough, Brian released him and stood. Kissed the back of his neck and whispered hoarsely, "How many inches do you think you're due?"

Mouth open, breathing raggedly, the trick replied, "All twelve."

Brian left him and retrieved the dildo from the bed, the lube from the nightstand. Returned and laid the lube next to the trick's hand. Ran the dildo up his back from his tailbone to his shoulder blades. The man turned to see if it really was a foot long. Brian placed the head against his lips and watched as the blond bottom curled his tongue around it and then licked up and down the latex shaft. "Lube it up," Brian commanded. When the entire shaft had been slathered with lube, he had the man squeeze some in his hand too. This he spread over his hole, sliding one finger inside to prepare the way. Bracing himself with one hand on the edge of the chest of drawers, he began. "One," announced Brian as the head pressed against the wrinkled opening and then spread the lips apart and pushed inside, past the tight ring of muscle guarding the entrance.

The trick gasped as he was penetrated, then smiled. "More," he said.

Happy to oblige him, Brian fed him another inch. "Two." His breath was cool against the man's neck. He continued to apply pressure. "Three, four." A sudden movement on the trick's part caused him to pause. "Enough already?" A shake of the head. The muscles in his arm flexed as he worked three more inches inside of the blond's ass. "Seven." He grinned. "I'm impressed. Wanna go for the gold?"

"Do it," came the harshly whispered answer. Sweat dripped off the young man's forehead and his belly was tight.

Slowly, even slower than he had begun, Brian eased another inch inside his rectum. Heard a sharp inhalation. Stopped. Waited until the man's breathing had returned to normal. Gave him another inch, and then another. Ten so far, only two more to go. He licked the guy's neck. "You are something else."

He was rewarded with a faint smile. "Last two," the trick reminded him.

Brian pushed hard and his guest cried out. He held on firmly to the dildo, his fist wrapped around the huge balls that formed the base. "Yeah…" he breathed, and then he flattened his hand beneath the base and pressed in the last inch.

The trick's head fell back and his body jerked.

Brian left his hand where it was, holding the dildo in place. "How does it feel?"

"Fuckin' fantastic," came the answer in hushed tones, yet Brian could hear the excitement in his voice, the lust.

Fired by the man's pleasure, Brian murmured, "You're making me so hard..."

His partner wiggled his hips slightly, moving the dildo around in Brian's palm. "Then fuck me."

Having removed the dildo and grabbed a condom from the bowl next to his bed, Brian fucked the trick where they stood, the man bent over the chest of drawers, face pressed up against the opaque glass wall of the bedroom. Although the dildo had relaxed him, his asshole was still tight enough, and Brian enjoyed fucking the Bountiful Bottom, pounding his pink hole until his partner was crying out at every thrust.

They changed positions, the trick sitting on the counter top, the back of his head against the glass, legs wrapped around Brian's waist. One of Brian's hands gripped the edge of the door frame, the other pulled on the blond man's cock. And they fucked. Saliva dripped from the corner of Brian's mouth as he lost himself in the movement of his hips driving his cock into the man like a piston. He slid in and out of the well-oiled hole with amazing regularity until his balls began to feel like they were twisting in a knot. Releasing the man's cock, Brian encircled the man's back and waist with his arms and lifted him, still joined, from the counter top and carried him to the bed.

Lying on his back, his legs over Brian's shoulders, the young man moaned and tugged on his swollen cock as Brian fucked his hole. He raised his hips in an uncoordinated attempt to meet Brian's lunges, but he was too far gone to want to do much of anything but take it. Brian gasped and began a series of sharp jabs, his dick moving only a few inches in or out of the man's hole. Finally, unable to hold back any longer, he shouted and felt the first gush of cum leave his cock.

As Brian came, the trick continued to pull on his dick until he too became caught up in the throes of ejaculation. Crying out, his stomach muscles contracted, he jerked on his cock until it had finished spewing. Slumping back onto the bed, he savored the feel of Brian's still hard cock buried in his ass. 

 

Brian rolled over and studied the man lying on his belly next to him. He reached over and stroked his voluptuous ass, fingers dipping into the crevice between his cheeks, brushing over his still tender hole. The young man hissed, yet turned his head towards Brian and smiled. In answer to the smile, Brian leaned over and kissed the tops of his buttocks, then laid back down on his side. "So whose ass is that on your page?"

"I don't know," Justin replied. "I found it on the web." He tensed his ass muscles. "Mine's better."

Neither confirming nor denying the teen's assertion, Brian asked, "Then why didn't you use yours?"

Justin grinned. "You would have known it was me." At Brian's noncommittal look, his confidence faltered. "Wouldn't you?"

Instead of answering, Brian switched off the light. "Go to sleep."

Knowing that there was no point in continuing a conversation once Brian had decided it was over, Justin closed his eyes. Then he heard a voice in the darkness.

"You have a mole on your right cheek." Justin ran his fingers over his ass. "About two inches away from your thigh." He moved his hand down. There it was. "Now, go to sleep."

Smiling, Justin made a note to himself to cruise the chat rooms more often. Maybe Bountiful Bottom would make another appearance.


	6. Room Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look back at happier (kinkier) times.   
> Not a lot of plot, just a lot of Mmmm, I wanna mmm mmm mmm...

The bicycle messenger pushed through the doors of the Liberty Diner and stopped Deb on her way to serve a booth of four. "Justin Taylor?"

Surprised, she pointed him out and watched as the messenger approached Justin, handed him a manila envelope, had him sign for him, and left on his next delivery.

A smile spread across Justin's face. It was from Brian. A hotel card key. With a sticky note attached: "Total Top waiting for a Bountiful Bottom. Now." As Deb neared him, he shoved the card key and note into his back pocket and disposed of the envelope.

"Well?" she asked and he just continued to smile. Nodding knowingly, she said in an annoyed voice, "Brian."

Putting on his best little boy face, despite the fact that he was scheming to rendezvous with Brian for an evening of sex, he asked, "Could I get off a half-hour early?"

Deb frowned. "So you can go meet him?"

"Come on, Deb," he begged.

"For your own good, I should say no."

"But…"

She punched him lightly on the arm. "But I'm not. Go on. Just--" She paused. "Just be careful, huh, Sunshine?"

He kissed her on the cheek, untying his apron and removing his order pad and pencil. "Sure. Later." 

 

Sauntering through the lobby of the hotel, he boarded the elevator and took it to the twenty-ninth floor, dismounted and followed the signs to room 2918. Cute. He didn't knock but used the card key Brian had sent him. Expecting a room, he was surprised to see that Brian had reserved a suite with a sitting room, bedroom, and bath. He could see the bedroom from the doorway and heard Brian stirring around deeper inside the suite, in what he assumed was the bath. "Brian?" he called out to alert the man to his presence.

In a moment Brian appeared. Still dressed in his work clothes. This was getting more and more curious. "Punctual. I like that." He stood in the doorway between the sitting room and the bedroom and waited. Getting the hint, Justin walked over to him.

"So," he asked, "why are we here?" But Brian didn't answer, just took him in his arms and kissed him, and in a few moments Justin didn't care why they were there, only that they were.

They moved to the bedroom, stood next to the bed, still engrossed in the act of kissing. He reached up and loosened Brian's tie, pulled it free and dropped it on the bed. Pushed off the suit jacket and let it fall on top of the tie. Unbuckled the belt, unzipped the trousers, and kneeling, pulled them down around Brian's ankles. Brian sat back on the bed as Justin removed his shoes and trousers, stripping him of everything but his underwear. Once the teen was done, he crawled on top of his lover and they resumed kissing.

Brian loved the feel of the still-dressed Justin rubbing against his bare skin. The rough jeans chaffing his legs, the soft cotton of his jersey buffing his arms and chest. Only his cock was protected and it too yearned for closer contact. But Justin wasn't ready to divest him of all his clothing and it was understood in this phase of the game that the teenager was in charge.

They couldn't seem to get enough of one another's mouths but Justin was getting impatient, wanting to move to the next level, wanting to feel Brian's skin next to his own. Breaking contact briefly, he pulled off his jersey and got his jeans opened before Brian brought his head back down for another kiss. He managed to kick his sneakers off without interrupting their activity. But, finally, he had to leave Brian lying on his back in order to take off his jeans. Once he had them off, he finished undressing by taking off his briefs. Still, he made no move to do the same to Brian. Completely naked, he scooted up Brian's supine body and knelt over his groin. Lowered his hips until his cock and balls were pressing against his partner's covered crotch. Then, slowly, he began to rotate his hips.

Brian smiled as his cock responded to the new sensations. Feeling Justin's sac caressing his own, despite the thin barrier, aroused him. But he made no attempt to take control, leaving it up to Justin-for now. Justin took hold of his stiffening meat and used it to stroke Brian's crotch. Brian moaned as his cock stirred. The outline of the shaft was visible through his underwear. Moving forward a little, Justin pried apart his buttocks and rubbed his anus against the mound of Brian's dick. His lips tensed then relaxed as he pressed against the firm flesh. And the sensation undid him. Moving to the side, he removed Brian's underwear at last, then stretched out on top of him. As they kissed, Brian rolled them over so that Justin lay beneath him. "I want to fuck you," he whispered, then drew away. "But not yet," he said, laying a finger upon Justin's lips to forestall any complaints. "Come on."

Taking Justin's hand, Brian led him to the bathroom where a whirlpool bath occupied much of the floor space. It was huge, easily accommodating three or four people. The water swirled about like a storm at sea. Brian watched as Justin entered the tub and sank down on his haunches so that he was submerged to his neck. Then he stood again, water rolling off of his smooth, firm body. Turning, he took hold of the edge of the tub and knelt on one of the built-in seats so that his buttocks protruded just above the eddying surface of the water. His asshole glistened, beckoning Brian.

Wasting not another moment, he climbed into the tub and knelt on the floor of the bath, positioning his face on level with Justin's hips. Pressing gently on either side of the teen's anus, Brian revealed the wrinkled hole in all of its pink glory. Unfurling his tongue, he began just behind Justin's balls and continued up to the top of his anus. The teen shivered. God, he loved Justin's ass, loved eating it out, licking it, fucking it, loved the way Justin moaned as he ate him, licked him, fucked him. He continued to lap and nip at and around his hole until the entire area was flushed and Justin's lips had begun to spasm.

Justin laid his head upon his arms and focused on breathing. His cock had gotten so hard that it poked up from beneath the water. He groaned as Brian opened his mouth around his balls and sucked them while his finger played in his ass. He felt the tip of Brian's finger enter him and begin to gently massage his hole. Brian stood, kissing Justin's shoulders and neck as his finger continued to open him up. Then, removing his finger, he stroked the teenager's voluptuous ass, hands sliding over the wet flesh, in between the plump cheeks. Justin turned and their mouths reconnected. Their cocks bumped together, hard, hungry for attention.

Brian moved so that he was against the edge of the tub. Then he sat down on the built-in seat and drew Justin to him. His jaws extended as the teen's cock brushed over his tongue. The head pressed against the back of his mouth and he tightened his lips around the shaft, feeling the head swell. He allowed Justin to slide out, flicking his tongue over the sensitive tip, loving the way Justin's cock bounced up and down in response to his actions.

Biting down on his bottom lip, Justin let his head fall back, hands kneading Brian's neck and shoulders as he fought to maintain some semblance of control over his body. Although he had, in reality, lost control a long time ago, the moment he accepted Brian's invitation and climbed into his jeep outside of Babylon. He smiled, remembering how pissed Emmett and Michael had been, realizing that Brian had stranded them once again, leaving them to hitch a ride with Ted. Brian must have seen him smiling because he ceased sucking on his cock to ask, "What are you smiling about?"

He didn't answer, only wiggled his hips so that his dick slapped against Brian's cheek. Hmm, that felt good and Brian didn't complain so he did it again. Heard a satisfying whack! as his cock struck Brian's face. He could feel the blood rush to his dick and he felt dizzy. But it didn't stop him from slapping the other cheek. Brian smirked. "So you wanna play rough, huh, little boy?" He caught Justin's cock behind the head in one hand and began lightly smacking the palm of his other hand against the teen's sac. The room began to tilt crazily and Justin grabbed hold of Brian's head to steady himself. Fuck! that felt incredible. Brian gave him a few more smacks and then released him. His scrotum was tingling, flushed, and had drawn up against his shaft. "Had enough, little boy?" Brian inquired.

Swallowing hard, Justin replied in a breathless voice, "What else you got?" He saw Brian's eyes flash and knew he was in for it now. Brian had fifteen years experience to draw upon, there were probably things he had done that he would never share with his young lover for whatever reason. Just thinking about the possibilities made Justin shiver in anticipation.

The gauntlet thrown down, Brian's mind went into overdrive. He hadn't really planned on anything more than their having a relatively vanilla fuck session, and then eating, and fucking some more, and going to sleep. But once challenged, the ad exec made it his policy never to back down and never to let his opponent get the best of him. His lips spread in a menacing grin, Brian climbed out of the tub and grabbed a robe, slipped it on, and went into the sitting room. Justin couldn't hear what he was doing but after about a minute he returned, held out his hand, and helped the teen from the whirlpool. "Before you turn into a wrinkly prune. And I don't do old," he reminded Justin, throwing him the other robe.

"What are we waiting for?"

"Room service," replied Brian, an enigmatic smile on his face.

Justin trembled, despite the robe. 

 

First he dried the teen thoroughly and, when not a trace of water remained, made him raise his arms. Then, taking one of the items he'd had Room Service bring up, he began shrouding his torso with plastic wrap. His groin and hips he encased in a plastic diaper, taking care that Justin's cock lay against his belly before he immobilized it. Then he encircled Justin's legs, just below the knees, a couple of times. When he was through covering him up, he tipped him onto the bed, since the teen could barely move, and secured his hands above his head to the corner post of the headboard with his tie so that Justin lay crossways the mattress. Then, as an extra precaution, he rummaged around until he found his underwear and ordered Justin to open up, stuffing the bikini briefs into his mouth to muffle the cries that were certain to come.

Justin's head was swimming. He could smell Brian's scent on the briefs and it made him tingle, just imagining Brian's cock and balls nestled in the soft fabric all day. He could taste him. Despite the fact that his cock had been bound tightly against his stomach, it stretched at the thought. Justin felt a little apprehensive. What did Brian have in mind? He almost wished the man would have blindfolded him, but he supposed that seeing Brian do whatever it was he was planning to do was part of it, part of the thrill for both of them.

Catching and holding Justin's eye, Brian reached over and removed something else from beneath the metal-covered tray. Correction, two items. A lighter and a votive. Justin jerked involuntarily. Smiling, Brian lit the wick. Waited until a pool of wax had formed inside and then held the candle over Justin's chest. Tipped it over so that a drop of hot wax fell upon the cellophane covering his left nipple. At first Justin didn't feel anything and then as the wax hardened, the heat finally penetrated the layers of cellophane. He felt a twinge but it wasn't unbearable. Then Brian reached beneath the cover again and brought out another item. A tiny pair of scissors, like the kind barbers used to trim moustaches and beards. Catching the top layer of plastic, Brian cut through it, exposing the layer beneath. Then he tipped the votive over again. This time the heat reached Justin's nipple sooner and felt hotter. He gasped but no sound emerged from his mouth, stuffed as it was with Brian's underwear.

Brian turned to the other nipple. Twice he waxed and cut. When he reached the next to the last layer, Justin began to worry. The metal in his nipple ring had gotten warm from the previous two waxings and still hadn't cooled completely. And Brian seemed to be pouring more wax on this nipple than he had the other. In the midst of his thoughts the wax struck the plastic wrap and he arched his back. His nipple stiffened, hot wax heating not only the tip but the metal ring as well so that he felt as if he had been branded. Brian could hear his moans through the gag in his mouth. Leaning over so that their eyes met, Brian asked, "Had enough, little boy? Maybe I should tear open the last layer," he suggested. Justin's eyes widened. He couldn't imagine what it would feel like to have the hot wax fall directly on his skin but he decided not to encourage Brian to continue. He shook his head, hoping Brian would play nice and respect his fear.

But Brian took up the scissors again and Justin squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation of being scalded. Only, instead of hot wax, he felt Brian's breath on his skin. Brian licked his nipple, soothing the sensitive skin with his saliva. Justin felt a tear slip from beneath his eyelid, he was so relieved. Raising up, Brian said, "We're just getting started."

Justin jerked against his bonds as Brian dripped hot wax onto the plastic wrap covering his dick. And, unlike with his nipples, the man could choose where he wanted to strike next: the tip of his cock, along the shaft, his balls. The cellophane over his cock was ragged with waxy holes. The briefs were soaked with his spit as he shouted into the wadded up material. Yet, even as he rebelled against the torture, he also knew that he was excited. His buttocks tingled and his cock was straining against the plastic wrap. He wasn't the only one who was aroused. Brian's dick was hard against his belly and had already begun to leak. His skin was shiny beneath the head.

Aware of his mounting need to fuck Justin, Brian took up the scissors once more and freed the teen's legs. Used his arm to hold them up out of the way and then, carefully, cut away the plastic wrap over his anus. He didn't cut all the way through, just down a couple of layers. Discarding the scissors, he used his finger to tear through the remaining barriers. Justin's hips wiggled as Brian's finger brushed against his ass lips. One-handedly, Brian flipped the top on the tube of lubricant and wet his finger. Placed it against the center of Justin's wrinkled rosebud and pushed. Applying continuous pressure, his finger eased through the ring of muscle. Brian looked over at Justin's face to gauge his reaction, saw the look of bliss on his face. Smiling, he worked his finger in and out of the teen's slippery asshole until neither one of them was capable of waiting a moment longer. Almost in a daze himself, he used his fingers to widen the hole in the plastic wrap and drew Justin's legs over his shoulders; encased his cock in a condom and applied a thin layer of lube. Not bothering to release Justin from his bonds, Brian penetrated him.

As they fucked, Brian's cock thrusting up his asshole furiously, Justin began to have trouble swallowing around the wadded-up briefs in his mouth. Panicked, he pleaded with his eyes for Brian to remove the gag. Although he was bound just as tightly by his lust and his desire to fuck Justin raw, Brian was still able to act. He reached down and removed the obstruction. Justin took a great gulp of air and coughed. Once he had his breath back, and the fear of death had receded, he was able to concentrate on their fucking. Not that there was much he could do except moan and hang on.

This was what it felt like, to be completely under someone else's power, to be in their hands, unable to act even to save your own life. This was what it felt like, to be so open to someone that you could feel them fucking you all over, even in your brain. He could feel Brian's dick thrusting up into his throat. Thrusting behind his eyes into his cerebrum. What had Brian done tonight but fuck with his head? _You're mine_ , Brian had said to him, not in words but in deeds. _Mine to do whatever I want to…_ He knew he should have felt ashamed but he didn't.

Brian withdrew, released his hands, and turned him over, mounted him from behind. And as his partner's cock slid up his hole, Justin realized that he too had power over Brian. Because it seemed, no matter what, despite the man's protests to the contrary, he was unable to leave Justin alone, unable to put him aside. The bed shook as they jerked against one another, his hips rocking back to meet Brian's thrusts.

And they fucked:

_Battered muscles trying to grip slippery flesh_

_Swollen lips kissing,_

_cock-teasing_

_Oh fuck..._

_Oh--_

_Driving deeper--_

_\--not deep enough,_

_gotta go deeper,_

_deeper_

_Fuck him_

_Fuck him_

_Fuck him_

_Wanting to cum_

_Wanting to spew_

_Wanting to fuckin drench him with cum,_

_with spunk_

_Hear him scream_

_Gripping him tight_

_Cumming_

_God, his ass… is so tight,_

_so sweet_

_So fuckin tight_

_This is--_

_\--this is--_

_This is what it feels like_

_Fucking him_

_So good_

_So--_

_Oh God…_

_So fuckin--_

_Yeah..._

_Hmm..._

 

Brian padded in from the other room with a folder in his hands. He dropped down on the bed next to Justin and flipped it open. "So what do you think of the accommodations?" he asked, pen ready to record the teen's thoughts. Justin raised an eyebrow. "We're doing an ad campaign for the hotel. So what do you think?"

Justin grinned and took the folder and pen away from Brian. "I think we need to do further research before I can make a recommendation."

Allowing himself to be eased back onto the bed, Brian said, "Maybe I should book the suite for an additional night."

The teen kissed the man in the hollow of his throat and raised his head. "You do that." 

 

Music: "The Wretched," Trent Reznor, Leaving Hope Music/TVT Music Inc. (ASCAP) administered by Leaving Hope Music, Inc., 2000 from the NIN album Things Falling Apart, Nothing/Interscope Records, 2000.


	7. Couch Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Justin moves out of the loft. Brian begins to suspect that there is more to his relationship with Justin than just sex.

Switching off the shower with a flick of his wrist, he stepped out of the stall, grabbed a fluffy bath sheet, and began toweling off, oblivious to the teenager standing in the doorway.

"Hey."

Brian jumped. "Fuck!" Caught his breath and the towel which he had very nearly dropped. "Shit."

"Sorry," grinned Justin. "I thought you heard me."

"How'd you get in?" he demanded.

Justin dug into his pocket. "Key. You never asked for it back." He paused. "You want it back?"

Brian didn't reply or reach for the key; instead he snatched his robe from a peg. His hair was still damp although he had run the towel over it. Whatever his vague plans for the evening had been, they had changed with Justin's arrival. He wouldn't have just come over without calling unless it was important. At least, to him. Brian had no doubt that this latest crisis would prove to be a mirage but to a teenager everything loomed menacingly and he knew he would get no rest until they tackled it. Together.

Robe clinging to his moist skin, he led Justin to the kitchen where he poured himself a glass of Jim Beam and retrieved a can of soda for his guest. Looking quite perturbed, Justin took the soda and followed Brian to the living room.

As Brian had perched in an armchair, Justin took the sofa, hoping this was not a sign of the man's displeasure. Brian ran hot and cold more than any person he had ever known. During the time he had known the ad exec, Justin had been in the doghouse more times than in his entire seventeen years previous to their meeting. On the other hand, he had experienced greater pleasure than ever before as well. He didn't know what to make of it. Perhaps nothing. He had been given ample evidence to suggest that this was just the way Brian was, that if you took the beautiful body, the handsome face, the charm, and the incredible lovemaking skills, you also took the anger, the self-destructive streak, the confusion, and the pain. That Brian felt pain, Justin was certain; sometimes his hazel eyes would cloud over in agony as he desperately tried to conceal it but couldn't. Consequently, he behaved the nastiest, the most hateful when he was in the greatest pain, unable-or unwilling-to deal with it in any other fashion.

Brian sipped his whiskey. "So."

It was all the opening Justin would get, all he needed. "Were you going out?"

"Go directly to the point, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars," Brian replied aborting any meaningless digressions and futile lines of inquiry.

Justin squirmed and hunted for signs of extreme annoyance in Brian's features. He was difficult to read sometimes; when he was in control neither his expression nor his body language would betray him. Justin opened his soda and took a swig to buy a few precious seconds. Then he focused his attention on the can as he spoke. "I just had a really shitty day, that's all." When no witty riposte greeted his confession, he continued. "We had to write this essay about true love and the thing we loved the most, and when I got mine back, Mr. Bradshaw, my English teacher, had written across the top of it: 'Essay not appropriate for topic. Rewrite and resubmit by Friday.' "

Not that he needed to ask, but he did anyway. "What did you write about?"

Justin peeked at Brian from beneath thick, blond eyelashes. "You."

Rising from his chair, Brian commented, "Your teacher's an asshole but he's right. That's not appropriate."

As Brian passed by him, Justin caught hold of his sleeve which fluttered as he walked. "Why?"

Brian allowed himself to be held. "Because I'm not your true love. You don't love me. How could you? You don't know me. You don't have the slightest idea who I am."

Because you won't let me find out," Justin shot back.

Pulling away at last, Brian glared down at the teen. "Because I don't need you to love me."

They stared at one another and this time Justin refused to back down, to be the first to look away. If Brian wanted to lie to himself about what he needed, what he felt, that was fine, but he couldn't. "Even if you say I can't possibly love you because I don't know you, I know how I feel. That's all I'm certain of. And you can't tell me how I feel, what to feel. Nobody has that right."

At last Brian broke their gaze and mumbled, "I have to get dressed."

But before he could take three steps, Justin's voice stopped him, ringing out strong and clear. "You're such a fucking coward." Brian's lips narrowed in an effort not to answer. "You want to run away from it, from me, you go ahead. Run all you want. It's not gonna change how I feel. And I won't let you forget. No matter how much you want me to disappear, so that you can slink away and fuck somebody else, I won't do it. Even if you forbid me from coming over, even if you ignore me, my feelings for you won't go away, and they'll be there, every time you hit the clubs, or the baths, or bring some trick back here." He stood. "So do what you want."

Brian was livid. His lips formed a hard, straight line and his eyes flashed in anger. But Justin ignored those signs because Brian hadn't moved, and his gaze hadn't left Justin's face. The teenager still commanded his complete attention. Instead of leaving as Brian would have wanted, Justin removed his jacket and kicked off his shoes. Used his toes to pull off his socks. When Brian showed no signs of stopping him or walking away, he proceeded with his disrobing, dragging his sweater over his head.

Brian watched as the teen's rosy nipples came into view. Unconsciously, the tip of his tongue peeped from between his lips, which had relaxed and parted slightly. He could taste Justin's flesh, knew how he would feel as he lapped at the stiffening buds.

Aware of Brian's heightened interest, Justin unsnapped and unzipped his jeans and pulled them off in one smooth, practiced motion. Before he could take off his briefs, Brian struck, bringing his mouth down hard upon Justin's, laving his lips with his tongue. He licked the boundaries of his mouth before engaging in a series of deep, arousing kisses.

His hand cupped Justin's crotch, stroking his meat through the cotton fabric of his underwear. The head of his cock was visible and it was upon that feature that Brian concentrated most of his efforts, the pad of his thumb repeatedly pressing against the most sensitive area, the sensations only heightened by the barrier between them.

Feeling Justin's breath in his mouth as he gasped, Brian pulled away slightly and whispered, "Tell me something. Now that I've got you all hot and bothered, what if I told you to take your twink ass home? Could you do it? Would you have the strength to do it? The courage to walk away from something you want? Because I could. And you call me a coward." Brian let go of him and started to back away but Justin reached out and cupped his dick through the silk robe.

"But you don't have to walk away if you want me. I'm right here."

Too late, much to Brian's chagrin, he realized the error of his word choice. Much, much too late, as his cock stirred beneath Justin's expert manipulations, the smooth silk fabric sliding along his shaft sending shivers up his spine. Easing Justin's hand away, Brian ordered him to fetch the condoms and the lube. Meanwhile, he took off his robe, spread it over the sofa, and sat down upon it. Thighs open wide, he wrapped his hand around the base of his cock. Justin returned and, without instruction, knelt between his knees.

Like a little kid presented with a bounteous cone of ice cream, he began to lick wherever he could, assured that there would be plenty more where that came from. After a while, Brian released his cock and gripped the cushions in an effort to keep himself grounded. His toes curled on the rug beneath his feet while Justin feasted on him, never quite getting his fill. He worked the entire shaft, coating it with spit from base to tip, then devoted his attention to one spot, sucking on the bump below the head until Brian cried out and arched his back, cock sliding deeper into the recesses of Justin's mouth.

Finally, the teen released him and wiped his mouth. Saliva ran down his chin and his lips and tongue were exhausted, but Brian was hard and a haze of lust darkened his hazel eyes assuring Justin that he had done well.

Rising from a partially supine position, Brian urged Justin to his feet and worked his briefs down over his hips to drop on the floor. Holding onto his plump buttocks, he proceeded to devour his erection, using only his mouth to coax the hard flesh into the proper position before sliding up the shaft. He hissed through his teeth as Brian tugged on his cock, lips tight around the head. The tip of his cock flopped free as Brian turned to his sac, taking first one ball and then the other into his mouth, his cheek filled with the teen's firm flesh. Justin whimpered while Brian fed on his testicles and allowed him to maneuver him onto the couch, his legs spread wide open, Brian's head between his thighs, still gnawing on his balls. Loosening his grip, Brian made his way up Justin's body and they wrestled about, engrossed in the act of kissing, of tongues entwining, probing, teasing.

Justin pushed Brian back and reached for the condom. Unrolled it over his erection and squeezed a generous amount of lube over the tip. Used his palm to spread it over the entire surface. Then, he crawled onto Brian and knelt over him, facing away from him. One hand around his cock and the other resting on Justin's hip, Brian guided his partner over and down upon his dick. Justin's mouth opened in a silent cry as he stretched around his lover's turgid member. The lube eased the way, as did his enthusiasm and desire, and within a few moments he was thoroughly impaled.

He remained as he was, enjoying the feel of Brian inside him, the feel of Brian's hands upon his belly and chest, fingers rubbing his nipples, stroking the smooth flesh of his stomach, his throat, his arms, as the lips kissed the nape of his neck, his shoulders, and down his spine.

Then, slowly, Justin rose up on his knees, Brian's cock sliding out of him. But only as far as the head before Justin was back down again, relaxing his lips to take every inch. Brian gripped the Justin's thighs as they moved against one another, the teen bouncing up and down, the man thrusting upwards. Their motions were so violent that they began to slip off the couch due to the silk robe beneath them; Brian finally lifted them both and worked it from underneath his hips.

Brian licked Justin's shoulder and then bit down upon the fleshy part of his neck. God, he wanted to eat him, to taste his flesh, rip into his muscles with his teeth. He was so hot, so fuckin horny, so hard that he could barely think straight. And the way Justin's hole kept opening up for him and tightening around him… Groaning between Justin's shoulder blades, Brian reached around and tugged on the teenager's cock. Justin cried out and his lips tensed, sending a wave of dizzying pleasure throughout Brian's groin. Flattening his hand against the belly of Justin's cock, he gave him a rub down the teen wouldn't soon forget. When Brian finally removed his hand, Justin's cock was hard against his stomach and dripping.

Biting his lip, Justin rose up as far as he could, Brian's dick slipping free. Then he turned around and, reaching behind him, fed his lover's cock back into his ravenous hole. As the underside of his dick dragged along Brian's skin, the entire member trapped between their straining bodies, Justin held onto Brian's neck and moaned. He was so wet, his dick trailed precum as it traveled the length of Brian's belly, each thrust, each jolt causing the head to expand, the hole to widen, the precum to flow heavier. Brian, mouth glued to Justin's, reached between them and wrapped his fingers around the teen's shaft, just below the head, and pressed it harder against his skin. Justin cried out each time the tender tip brushed over Brian's belly. Giving a shout, he began pumping his hips forward, driving his cock against Brian's muscles and working his hole around Brian's dick. Feeling the head of Brian's cock bump against his prostate for about the hundredth time, feeling his cock head gape open, weeping clear tears, feeling Brian's fingers around his cock, Justin buried his face in Brian's shoulder and screamed.

A warm gush of cum wet Brian's fingers, joining the precum that was already there. Although the shaft had become slipperier, Brian held on to the spitting organ. When Justin was at last finished, Brian's hand and belly were soaked with his spunk.

Without giving him time to recover, Brian tumbled him onto the sofa, onto his back and, still joined, began to thrust against him with greater force. Justin's legs gaped open, one along the back of the sofa, the other hanging off the front, and Brian moved like a shark between his thighs, cock raiding his ass hole, devouring every thing in sight. Brian gripped the arm of the sofa in one hand, the other pressed down into the seat cushions, and plunged inside him. Justin shuddered, still aroused by the delectable motions of his lover's pelvis. He cupped Brian's buttocks and urged him on, whispering, "Fuck me. Come on. Yeah. Oh yeah. Oh God… I can feel it. I can feel you." He gave a cry and tightened his hole, feeling Brian's cock expand again. And then Brian stiffened and grunted, his teeth clamped tight, feeling the flood of creamy juice splash against the inner surface of the condom and flow back over his cock. Justin held him tight as he came, collapsing against the teen's chest when the paroxysm had passed. 

 

Looking down at Justin sleeping, Brian walked away from the bedroom and returned to the sofa, where he sat for a few minutes, staring out of the window at the buildings across the street, not really seeing them. There was absolute silence in the loft, except for the sound of Justin lightly snoring.

In the silence, he ruminated on the evening's main event and, by his own count, he had lost the bout to Justin, KO in the first round. What did it mean that he couldn't send the teen away? He remembered all the things he had said to Justin when he was still living with him, all the compromises he had made, telling himself that it made life easier, that he could always go so far and then no further. But tonight, tonight he had folded, there was no other way to describe it. And for what? A fuck? That was all it was, fucking.

The snoring stopped and he heard Justin call, "Brian?"

Turning, he paused, eyes seeing nothing, then replied, "What?"

"It's cold. Come to bed."

He could feel the warm sheets against his skin, the even greater warmth of Justin's body against his, yet he resisted the urge to return to the comfort of his bed and of Justin's arms. "Go back to sleep." When he didn't hear Justin coming down the steps, he assumed that the teen had done just that, had gone back to sleep without a fuss. He should have known better. On cat's paws Justin approached him. It was only the sound of the sheet brushing against the arm of the chair that gave him away.

Brian, irritated that once more he had been disobeyed, barked, "What? Can't I sit in my own fucking apartment, on my own fucking sofa without being interrogated about it?"

A hurt expression on his face, Justin turned to go back.

"Wait." Brian took a deep breath. "What?"

"Nothing." He faltered. "I just… I just wanted you to come back to bed. You look tired."

"It's one o'clock in the morning. Of course, I'm tired," snapped Brian. Justin started towards him but Brian held out a warning hand. "Go back to sleep," he said wearily.

Reluctantly, Justin complied. With Brian in the mood he was in, he could strike out at the teenager and really hurt him and tomorrow he wouldn't remember, would expect Justin to pick up where they had left off as if nothing had happened. So Justin schlepped back to bed, though he lay awake, surrounded by the almost palpable sense of malaise emanating from the man in the next room. Although he listened carefully, he didn't hear Brian stirring which meant he was still sitting on the sofa brooding. And why? Because he enjoyed being with Justin? It didn't make any sense to him and yet he could imagine that to Brian it probably felt as if the walls of a tiny cage were being erected around him, confining him to a limited space, constricting his movements, while he paced in an every decreasing radius until he couldn't move at all. For Brian, to stand still was paramount to death. To let time catch up with you was the first step onto a slippery slope that led to the grave. How to convince him that love would not confine him but free him? That was something Justin didn't know the answer to; and as time went on, he wasn't sure that he ever would.

He could sense that Justin was still awake, waiting for him to quit it and come back to bed. And as he had told Justin, he **was** tired, tired of feeling as though he was not in control of his life, that he was just a spectator watching an accident about to happen. And that a seventeen year old boy could precipitate such self-doubt and self-examination where there had been none, made him angry and more than a little afraid. Glancing at the clock on the DVD player, he accepted the fact that morning would arrive all too soon bringing with it challenges that had nothing to do with his current problem; and he decided that staying up all night wouldn't bring him any closer to finding a solution to the Justin Question than he was at this moment. Closing his eyes, he laid to rest his demons. For the night. Then, silently, he made his way to bed and lay down beside Justin to sleep until morning.

Almost imperceptibly, he felt the bed shift and Justin moved closer to him without coming in contact. Nevertheless, he could feel the heat generated by their proximity. He could hear Justin breathing. And although he had his back to the teenager, he could see his face in his mind, a look of desperate desire reconfiguring his features. For a moment, he almost turned over but, in the end, he didn't, because that small gesture would have promised more than he was able to deliver.

At least for now. 

 

Inspired by:

Charles Bukowski   
"nobody knows the trouble I've seen"   
from what matters most is how well you walk through the fire. The Viking Press, (1999).   
lines 20-23

now I am sitting on the edge of the couch   
naked, wet,   
listening, thinking, damn I'd like to stick it   
into you, baby


	8. "...Talking of Michelangelo..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin's generosity towards a fellow student brings him closer to Brian.

Let us go then, you and I...*

 

Out of the corner of his eye Justin saw someone sit in one of his booths. Flashing his brightest smile, he turned and paused. It was Kyle, from school. "Hey, Kyle." He grabbed a menu from the counter and handed it to his classmate. "There's not a huge selection."

Kyle glanced at the menu once and put it down. "Could I have some fries and a Coke?"

"Sure." Justin jotted it down, picked up the menu, and went to submit the order. He returned with Kyle's soda, laying a straw next to the glass. "So, how's it going?"

"Not bad," Kyle replied, taking a cautious sip of his drink, as if he suspected it was spiked.

Justin, realizing that Kyle needed to work up to whatever it was he had come in to say, returned to his other customers, few at this early hour. He collected his tip from the next table, dodging one of the guys' grabby hands with a laugh. By the time he had totaled another table's bill, Kyle's fries were up. He carried them over and set the plate in front of the teenager who briefly looked up at Justin and muttered, "Thanks."

"No problem." He turned to go.

"Justin—" A pause. "Could I-I mean, when do you get a break?"

Justin checked his watch. "In another two hours. That's when I get off." He waited for Kyle to make up his mind.

"Maybe I can come back then?" Kyle glanced down at his hands.

"Sure." One of the customers at a nearby table signaled him. He went, wondering what Kyle wanted. 

True to his word, Kyle returned in a couple of hours. Opting not to remain at the diner, the two boys strolled down Liberty Avenue until it became clear to Justin that Kyle would rather talk in a less public sphere.

"We can go to my place," Justin suggested to his silent companion.

Hands in his pockets, head lowered, Kyle agreed and they traipsed back to where his car was parked.

Deb was at work and Vic was at one of his support group meetings so the house was empty except for the two of them. Kyle seemed both more relaxed and less relaxed at the same time. Declining to share Justin's dinner, he sat on the couch across from him and surreptitiously watched his host eat.

From the way Kyle was studying him on the sly, Justin guessed that maybe Kyle had a thing for him. He'd never gotten the slightest impression before that Kyle was interested in him, or that he was even gay for that matter. He hadn't shown up for the one Gay Straight Student Alliance meeting but that didn't mean anything. Hardly anybody had despite Brian's brilliant marketing ploy. Feeling Kyle's eyes on him again, Justin decided to take matters in his own hands. "Why'd you want to see me anyway?"

"Just stuff," muttered Kyle.

Finishing off his tuna sandwich, Justin took the opportunity to check Kyle out more closely. He was about the same height, maybe an inch taller, bulkier than Justin was in the chest and shoulders, brown eyes and hair. Automatically, Justin began to compare him to Brian, noting the boys' deficiencies. Brian would never have beaten around the bush the way Kyle was doing; and Brian's eyes were hazel, not brown; even his hair was better, medium brown with light brown and auburn highlights. Of course, Justin realized he was being unfair to Kyle. After all, Brian was a grown man who'd had years to develop his own personal style. Besides which he was in advertising; he knew better than anyone what sold. All he had done was to apply his considerable skills towards marketing himself. He had molded himself into the person everybody wanted- or thought they wanted. Without sacrificing his identity. He hadn't changed his personality, just emphasized the positive features of the product until he got what he wanted. Still, even knowing the negatives, it was difficult to resist him, and if you were an eighteen-year-old twink, it was damned near impossible.

Tearing his thoughts away from Brian, Justin turned his attention back to Kyle. "What kind of stuff?"

Kyle took a shallow breath. Murmured, "I'm gay."

"Me too," Justin said smiling.

For the first time that evening, Kyle smiled. "Yeah, I know. Everybody knows."

Justin grinned. "Emmett says you have to let your little light shine."

"Is that the guy in the black jeep?" asked Kyle.

Laughing out loud at anybody ever mistaking Brian for Em, Justin realized that they did have a lot in common: they were both proud of who they were and honest about themselves. He resolved to tell Brian his observations. Grinned in anticipation of his reaction. "That's Brian."

Kyle glanced at Justin, still unable to meet his eyes dead on. "Is he your boyfriend?"

As much as he wanted to yell, 'Yes!' Justin told the truth. "No," he said softly, a hint of sadness in his voice.

At that Kyle looked up at him and Justin saw that his expression had brightened. "So you're not seeing anybody?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah, I am. I'm seeing him. Brian. It's just that, he's not my boyfriend. At least, that's what he says," Justin explained and the inadequacy of his answer combined with the look on Kyle's face caused him to chuckle, a little bewildered himself.

"I don't understand," Kyle admitted.

"He doesn't do boyfriends," explained Justin. "Or lovers, or partners, or whatever else you want to call it."

Intrigued, Kyle continued his line of inquiry. "But you guys you have sex?" Justin nodded, hoping he wasn't blushing. "And he brings you to school, which means you sleep over at his place?"

"Yep."

"And you go out?"

"Brian doesn't do dates. But we go to Babylon together, and to Woody's, and to the diner..."

"So you do go out," pronounced Kyle and Justin laughed at the absurdity of the situation when it was reduced to its bare essentials, devoid of circumlocutions and excuses. "But he doesn't want anyone to know? Is that it?"

"No, he doesn't care who knows. He just says it doesn't mean anything."

Kyle shook his head. "So, why do you hang out with this guy? I know he's hot and everything but, shit, you're hot too." As if he just heard what he had said, Kyle looked away from Justin. After a moment, he looked back. "You could have almost any guy you wanted."

"I want him," Justin stated simply, yet the words failed to convey the full range of emotions encompassed by the three short monosyllabic utterances.

Still Kyle wasn't satisfied, wasn't ready to abandon his undeclared quest just yet. "Why?"

How to explain his feelings for Brian? God, he could write for days and fill a thousand pages in his journal and still not explain in any rational manner why he loved Brian, wanted him, needed him. Each time he attempted to dissect his feelings, he failed to isolate the one thing that would explain his obsession. He admitted it. He was obsessed with Brian. And, at times, he realized that it wasn't an entirely healthy thing. But he also realized that beyond the obsessive qualities of his feelings, there lay very real, quite sane reasons why he loved Brian. And he did love him. It wasn't just lust or teenage desire or hero worship or any of those pale imitations of love. It was love, even if he didn't always know how to show it in the most mature manner. Still, he didn't know how to explain this to Kyle. And then he remembered the book he had upstairs.

"Come on," he said and he led Kyle to his room. "Sit down," he told his guest, indicating the bed. Gingerly, Kyle did so, while Justin grabbed a book of poetry off his desk.

"The Poetry of Michelangelo?" asked Kyle.

Justin flipped through the well-thumbed volume. Not many people knew that the artist had also written poetry, beautiful love sonnets and madrigals to his beloved, Tommaso de' Cavalieri, but Justin did because he knew everything about Michelangelo. When he was a kid, he had wanted to be Michelangelo. He still remembered the first time he saw the Pieta and the statue of David in an art book. The two pieces seemed to emerge from the flat pages to loom in three dimensions above him. And the panels from the Sistine Chapel, he could feel the figures' muscles, see their chests rise and fall as they breathed, they seemed so real, so alive, so dynamic. To find out years later that Michelangelo was gay and not only gay but that he wrote love poetry to another man had filled him with a secret joy and he hadn't stopped until he found a copy of his poems and bought it with his own money. Now, he turned to a dog-eared page and read aloud in a strong voice the sonnet he had begun to think of as being his and Brian's.

_I see with your beautiful eyes, a sweet light_  
that with my blind ones I could never see;   
I bear, with your feet, a burden upon me   
to which my lame ones are no longer accustomed.   
I fly, though lacking feathers, with your wings;   
with your mind I'm constantly impelled toward heaven;   
depending on your whim, I'm pale or red,   
cold in the sun, hot in winter's coldest depths. 

_Within your will alone is my desire,_  
my thoughts are created in your heart,   
and within your breath are my own words. 

_Alone, I seem as the moon is by itself:_  
for our eyes are only able to see in heaven   
as much of it as the sun illuminates. ** 

As always that sonnet filled him with so many emotions that he felt as if he would burst, that his body couldn't contain all of his feelings, because between every line, every syllable, lived Brian.

Kyle had fallen silent as well. They sat together not speaking, eyes moist; afraid to say anything and, in doing so, release the flood of tears they were holding back with difficulty. Kyle couldn't believe how much the sonnet had affected him. Or maybe it was the way Justin had read it, as if it were something precious to him that he was sharing with Kyle, which meant that he, Kyle, was worthy of Justin's confidences. And maybe it was because he glimpsed, in Justin's recitation, a hint of the teenager's love for Brian and the power of that love, so bright and shining like the sun, warmed him in the deepest recesses of his being.

Finally, Justin closed the book and laid it on the nightstand. Smiled gently at Kyle. A tear slipped from beneath his eyelid. Daring to do so, Kyle thumbed it away, his heart pounding from their closeness. In an instant, Justin made a decision. Leaning closer, he kissed Kyle softly on the lips. Kyle, having been offered what he wanted most, slid his hand around Justin's neck and pulled him closer, kissed him harder. Then, as if coming out of a haze, he drew away; but Justin cupped his chin and resumed their contact.

"What about Brian?" Kyle murmured against Justin's mouth.

"He wouldn't mind," Justin replied and he smiled tenderly to see the joy in Kyle's eyes as he began to undress. Halfway through, Kyle helped him with trembling fingers. And then they both went to work removing Kyle's clothing until they lay naked together in bed. Justin could feel Kyle shivering, not from the cold, but from being so close, so bare, emotions exposed to view.

"You're so beautiful," Kyle whispered, his face buried in Justin's shoulder.

"Have you ever?" began Justin and Kyle nodded. So it wasn't that. Justin guessed that it was partly fear. They went to the same school. After this, they'd have to pass each other in the hallway, sit across the room from one another in class, and behave as if nothing had ever happened.

Despite his initial hesitancy, Kyle knew what he wanted and he went about getting it with a single-mindedness that reminded Justin of Brian. Except that Kyle, unlike Brian, lacked finesse. However, Justin didn't mind. To feel Kyle's body next to him, knowing that Kyle wanted him more than anything, wanted him without reservations turned him on tremendously and made up for any clumsiness Kyle might have displayed.

Easing Kyle onto his back, Justin kissed down his torso and took the teen's half-hard cock in his mouth. Kyle moaned as Justin's tongue sought out the most sensitive area and repeatedly flicked over it. Taking great gulps of air, Kyle endured the delicious torture until he thought he would explode in Justin's mouth. At that very point Justin let him go and crawled on top of him, their cocks rubbing together, sending tremors up their spines. He got a condom from the nightstand and put it on Kyle, squeezed a little lube in his hand and covered the teen's shaft. Kyle rolled Justin over onto his belly and pressed the head of his dick against the opening of his ass. Justin gasped as Kyle entered him. Unable to slow down for very long, Kyle pushed through until nearly half his cock was buried in Justin's ass. He wanted to go all the way but the urge to fuck took over and he began to withdraw, not far, but enough.

Being pressed into the bed, Justin couldn't meet Kyle's thrusts the way he did when he and Brian fucked, but judging from the sounds Kyle was making, it wouldn't be long before he came. Sure enough, Kyle groaned and shot his load. Justin could feel his cock throbbing inside his ass, expanding with each spasm. When Kyle finished he lay on top of Justin, exhausted, unable to move for a while. Then, having regained a little strength, he withdrew and stretched out next to Justin, who turned over revealing an impressive erection. Kyle removed the condom from his cock and turned his attention to Justin's need. Squeezing some lube in his palm, he began jacking Justin off, his wrist moving in jerky motions as he tugged on Justin's slippery meat. Closing his eyes, Justin concentrated on the motion of Kyle's hand, on the feeling that the teen was drawing the cum out of his balls, stroke by stroke. If it had been Brian, he would have been sucking Justin's balls while bringing him off, and it was that thought that did it. Cum spurted from his cock and fell in thick streams upon his belly. Even Kyle seemed impressed, whispering, "Yeah," as he continued to squeeze the last few droplets of cum from Justin's dick. 

Having said goodbye to Kyle, both of them understanding that they would never be together again, Justin returned to his room and lay upon his mussed up bed. Despite smelling Kyle on his sheets, it was to Brian that his thoughts turned. Even though he had just been with Kyle, he ached for Brian, for his sure and confident touch, his imagination, and his generosity when it came to having sex with Justin. The teen had no illusions about Brian's promiscuity, but he was certain that Brian did not give of himself to the others as he did to him. There was something in Brian's eyes that appeared when they were fucking convincing Justin that he was receiving something special, something Brian rarely gave to anyone else. At least, that's what he hoped. Thinking about Brian only made him crazy to see him. Leaping from bed, he ran downstairs to call him, praying that he would be in the mood to play. 

"Don't move," ordered Brian, eating a strawberry set in whipped cream from Justin's belly button. After he had finished the fruit, he licked the cream from Justin's navel, eliciting peels of laughter from the youth. Brian smiled and nuzzled his sleepy cock. Eyes half-hidden by full, drowsy lids, Justin reached over, scooped a hand full of cream, spread it along his shaft and then, holding his cock by the base, asked, "Hungry?"

Brian licked the whipped cream from the head of Justin's dick, his tongue wrapping around the cap and disappearing into his mouth until the broad knob was clean. Then, instead of turning to the rest of the cream-covered shaft, he concentrated on the head, lapping the smooth flesh until it glistened. Justin caught his lower lip between his teeth and watched Brian through half-opened eyes, feeling Brian's tongue running up his spine, along the edge of his jaw, around his nipples even though it never left the head of his cock. Releasing his dick, he ran his fingers through his hair, gently pulling at the strands as his excitement mounted. This was what he had wanted, even as Kyle had been pounding him.

Slowly, Brian expanded his realm of exploration, lowering his head until his lips closed around Justin's dick just below the head, the edge of the mushroom-shaped cap resting against the inside of his lips. His tongue tickled the tiny opening and Justin took a sharp breath and let it out slowly, his back descending from a sudden motion upwards.

Speading Justin's thighs open even wider, Brian twisted his head and continued to move down the length of his lover's cock. His lips and face were covered in whipped cream by the time he reached the base. Justin's pubic hair was white as well and he shook like an old man seized by the ague due to the friction generated by Brian's lips as he moved up and down the thickening shaft.

Justin's cock popped out of Brian's mouth and bobbed over his groin. Giving the teen's cock a rest, he turned to his scrotum; first smearing whipped cream over the swollen sac before attacking it with abandon. Justin could hardly breathe. Screwing up his face, he bared his throat, the cords standing out in his neck. Brian's hands roamed the expanse of his chest and belly, fingers stroking smooth flesh in counterpoint to the mouth's activities.

When Brian released his balls, the sac had drawn up against his shaft, leaving the path to his asshole unobstructed. He grabbed hold of his legs around his knees and held them up and open. The first stab of Brian's tongue took his breath away. Around and around Brian circled the wrinkled flesh until it began to spasm. Placing two fingers on either side of the rosy hole, Brian spread Justin's lips revealing the shiny inner flesh, which he lapped slowly, coaxing the lips to part. Catching Justin's glance, he whispered, "Little pig, little pig, let me in," and Justin's asshole convulsed. Concentrating his efforts on the very center, he petitioned until he was given entrance. The tip of his tongue passed through the first ring of muscle.

Once Brian had gained admittance to his hole, Justin knew it would only be a matter of time before he was begging the older man to fuck him. Sure enough, Brian began to stab at his hole with the tip of his tongue and, as his entire body shuddered, he said breathlessly, "Fuck me. Oh God, fuck me."

Condom in place, lube applied, Brian rubbed his cock head against Justin's hole teasing the youth with the promise of more yet to come. Justin gasped as Brian pressed the head inside. Sighed as he was fully penetrated. He breathed in time with Brian's thrusts and withdrawals. One leg around Brian's hip, the other having slipped from place, Justin pressed his shoulders into the mattress and strove to meet Brian's strokes as his lover probed the depths of his ass.

Withdrawing, Brian turned Justin onto his side and mounted him from behind. Unable to thrust as deeply, he slowed the pace of their fucking, and increased the amount of time they would spend joined together. Justin took a deep breath and settled down to enjoy a long ride.

With Brian kissing his shoulders and neck, he lost track of time and couldn't tell how long they had been joined. For minutes at a time, Brian would almost cease to move inside him, deriving pleasure just from being inside the teenager. Sometimes he would lean back, taking Justin with him, and with the teen in his arms, stroke his cock slowly, his hand inching up and down the hard shaft.

Finally, responding to some internal schedule, Brian rolled Justin over onto his belly, then repositioned them until they were kneeling. A new position attained, the nature of their fucking changed. Brian thrust deeper and harder, the head and shaft of his cock expanding, forcing Justin's insides to accommodate the increased girth. His balls slapped against Justin's ass with regularity. His cock head bumped Justin's prostate going and coming. Finally, his strokes becoming ragged, his withdrawals shallower, he increased the force with which he fucked his partner. Justin cried out as Brian's dick rammed his ass, the pain greatly outweighed by the intense pleasure. He wanted, almost irrationally, more, wished Brian's dick was longer, thicker, so that there might be no crevice left untouched. He felt as if his entire body was on fire, enflamed from the inside, and he wanted to be burned entirely, incinerated by their fucking.

Saliva dripping from his opened mouth onto Justin's back, Brian cried out and came. When his body ceased to convulse, he reached around Justin's waist and took hold of his cock and jacked him off. Brian's dick still buried in him, Justin tightened his ass and gave himself over to the twin sensations of having a cock in his hole and having his cock slide through the hole Brian's fist made. Brian squeezed his cock head each time his hand closed over it and Justin thought he would die if he didn't come. Finally, Brian's thumb brushing over his piss hole, Justin gave a shout and cum spurted from his slit. Having come twice before that evening the amount wasn't as copious as before but it was still enough to wet his torso and drip onto the sheets. Brian hissed as Justin's hole contracted around his dick.

Head lowered, Justin took several gulps of air and relaxed so that Brian could pull out. Slumping to the bed, he closed his eyes. Brian laid a worried hand between his shoulders. "Did I hurt you?" Justin shook his head and, unable to speak, reached for Brian and pulled him against his back. 

Brian groaned, "I'm gonna have a stomach ache from all that whipped cream."

"Nobody forced you to have thirds," Justin pointed out. He reached over and stroked Brian's belly, his hand moving in lazy circles over his skin. Brian closed his eyes and gave himself over to the soothing motion of Justin's hand. As Justin caressed Brian's stomach, marveling at the feel of firm muscle beneath smooth skin, his thoughts drifted back to earlier events of the evening.

Far from feeling any guilt, he longed to share his experiences with Brian, but something told him that Brian wouldn't react to Justin's outside liaison with as much aplomb as he expected Justin to have when reacting to his amorous activities. Still, he longed to let Brian in on some of what had happened. As if he couldn't care less about the answer, he asked, "Did you know Michelangelo wrote poetry?"

If he expected Brian to dismiss him or to answer that he hadn't, he was fooled. "Yeah." When Justin stopped rubbing his belly, he made a noise of complaint and Justin began again.

"You didn't," he said challenging Brian to prove it.

Groaning, loathe to move and end Justin's stroking, Brian rose and went to his closet. Disappeared within. Justin heard him rummaging around in a box, and then he returned to the bed. Tossed a book onto the comforter and laid down once more.

Surprised, Justin recognized the book as being the same one he owned. Not only were pages dog-eared but someone—presumably Brian—had made notations in the margins by some of the sonnets.

"Italian poetry. Junior year. Elective," Brian explained. "Got an A minus."

"Not an A?" teased Justin.

"The instructor was a closet case who wanted to fuck me but never got up the courage to ask," replied Brian.

Knowing that Brian's idea of morality diverged sharply from most people's, Justin asked, "Would you have done it?"

"What? For an A instead of an A minus?" He shook his head. "He wasn't even hot. Besides, I don't do old."

"But you are into chickens," Justin joked and Brian flashed him a warning scowl, so he settled down again and flipped through the book of poems until he came upon the one he had read to Kyle. "Do you remember any of the poems?"

Negative. "Just bits and pieces. I was never any good at memorizing poetry. I remember images: lips, eyes, the sun..." He smiled to himself and the sight went right through Justin. "I guess that's why I'm in advertising. I only have to think in thirty second intervals and sound bites." Brian glanced over, having noticed that Justin had gone quiet all of a sudden. He was focused on one of the sonnets. Brian remembered what it had been like the first time he had read the sonnets and realized that Michelangelo had written them for his lover: his stomach had felt like a hundred fireflies were flashing inside, warming him from within, sending signals that no one else could read. He had felt both enlightened and alone, wondering if he would ever find his Tommaso, someone who would inspire such thoughts and feelings in him as the young man had inspired in Michelangelo. He imagined the artist patiently chiseling away at his life, trying to free the better man within, the man who would be able to meet Tommaso with love and generosity. When he met Cam, he thought that he had found his Tommaso but it wasn't to be, and so he had put aside the book and most of those feelings, forsaking the better man hidden inside of him. Now, lying next to Justin, he felt his stomach flutter again. "Read it," he said gently.

So Justin did, his voice trembling a little as he read the sonnet for the second time that evening, only this time he was both exhilarated and terrified. Would Brian recognize himself in the words? Discern his features between stanzas? And would he acknowledge it if he did? After he was done, _"…as much of it as the sun illuminates,"_ Justin closed the slender volume and waited for a reaction from Brian. Detecting none, disappointed, he laid the book on the table closest to Brian, necessitating his having to reach across him. As he moved back to his side of the bed, Brian caught hold of his arm and drew him onto his chest, saying nothing. But Justin could hear his heart beating steady beneath him. And even after they had both fallen asleep, the rhythm of Brian's heartbeat comforted and kept him through the night, until morning came and it was time to begin again.

_Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions*_

 

**Poetry:**

* "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot from Collected Poems 1909-1962, Faber, 1974.

** "Sonnet 89" by Michelangelo from The Poetry of Michelangelo translated by James M. Saslow, Yale University Press, 1991.


	9. ...For Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey and Brian aren't speaking, what's a guy to do for entertainment?

Night finds him brooding. From his roost in a half-lit niche he watches the moon, avoiding the giant poster of him and Mikey that inhabits his lonely living room. Not that he needs to see it. He was there when the strip was taken. The two of them goofing off, having gone to a comic book con. Mikey had begged him to come, nagged him for days to come, just once, just to see. And he had gone, smirking most of the day, feeling rather superior to the losers who held up plastic slip-covered comics with all of the reverence of a priest performing communion with the Holy Chalice. He hadn't smirked at Mikey though. Michael he understands. Understands the urge to leave the world behind and be somewhere else, someone else. To put on a disguise and go forth secretly into the world. Into a world that has no expectations of him. Where he has no history, no identity beyond his flesh. Whenever he goes to Woody's or Babylon and picks up some guy, some trick, never allowing them to touch anything more than his flesh, it's as if he's wearing a mask. Fuckman in his black Fuckmobile. Only they do have expectations. Out of ignorance they presume that they know him, know what he's capable of, willing to do, to tolerate. They don't. The only person who really knows him is Michael.

Only Michael isn't around anymore. Seeing him at the Liberty Diner, hearing him speak to the Boy Wonder he had wanted, had wanted… Maybe Deb was right. Maybe he pushed too hard. But that's what happens when you try to do what someone else wants you to do. If only he could have kept his temper, if he hadn't felt so angry at Deb, at Mikey... Michael makes a decision and suddenly it's his fault, he has to 'fix it.' He wished he could have sneered and told her, "I don't care," but he couldn't because he did care. And what did caring get him? Total boredom hanging out with Ted; too many meals mooched off the mommies; and way too many beers, too much Jim Beam, and no Mikey to look after him.

He stares at the photo strip on the wall, can almost feel the warmth of Michael's body in his arms. They seem so alive. So happy. Just the two of them. Thought crosses his mind, I wonder what Michael would do if I called him and told him I was sorry and that I loved him and needed him? He imagines Michael's face lighting up on the other end of the line, totally oblivious to Dr. Dave's presence, having heard what he wanted most to hear. That image still in his mind, he reaches for his cell phone, then lets it lie on the counter untouched. Mikey deserved better. Deserved to be treated better, taken care of, loved. Mikey wanted to settle down and-and Kinney men didn't do relationships. Straight or gay. _"Never should have been a family man…" "Don't make the same mistake I did, sonny boy…"_ His old man's words, words he had repeated to Mikey, haunt him. Because what had he done but gone out and gotten a kid? Christ. Lindsay'd have him out in the park pushing a fuckin' stroller soon. And after that, then what? Living with some poor SOB who'd get ripped into at least three times a week the way his mom had been. Watching him stumble home drunk, just like his old man had. Only instead of his mom it'd be some guy who'd fight back. Like Mikey had, until Brian did something really shitty and that'd be the end of it. Better that it end now before he'd done irreparable harm. The Doc was-would be good for Michael. He had done the right thing. He glances at the strip again, eyes misting. Doesn't even realize that he's spoken until he hears himself say, "I'm-" and falters, unsure of what he had intended to confess. He blinks rapidly, refusing the comfort of tears.

There's a knock on the door. Justin. Putting aside all thoughts of Michael, Brian goes to let in the Boy Wonder, amazed that he's actually glad Justin's come. He slides the door open and is greeted with a bright smile. "Hey," Justin says, trying to hide his delight at having been invited over-and failing. His smile grows wider.

Brian raises an eyebrow. "What do you want to do?" he asks, leaving Justin at the door.

Justin enters the apartment closing the door behind him. Holds out something in a brown paper bag. "I brought ice cream."

Leaning against the counter, Brian shakes his head. "That's two hours at the gym, blown, for what? Ten minutes of pleasure. Tops."

"I'll make it worth your while." Justin nears Brian, puts down his backpack, and sets the ice cream on the counter between them. Removes it from the bag. "We can work it off together," he suggests, running a tentative hand up Brian's side.

Eyes suddenly gleaming, Brian tugs on Justin's arm, leads him over to the stereo. "Let's dance." He puts on a CD. Instead of bombarding them with the frenetic sounds of techno house music, the stereo seduces with a sexy mambo number. Brian gathers Justin in his arms and they move slowly against one another. Justin lays his head in the hollow of Brian's throat and flattens a palm over his chest, feeling Brian's heart beat in languid counterpoint to the bass line of the music. They sway together for a chorus or two and then Brian lifts Justin and seats him on the back of the sofa. They kiss deeply as the music winds about them, drawing them closer together. Justin opens his thighs, then closes them again, his knees pressing against Brian's hips. Brian devours his lips, fingers entwined in golden hair. Justin is moaning into his mouth, aroused already and Brian feels his cock stir in response. What is it about Justin that excites him so much? Is it just that he's young and beautiful? But he's had young and beautiful, well, not so young, at least not since he was seventeen.

He pulls away amidst complaints from his young lover. Lays a finger against Justin's lips. "Wait." Makes a quick foray into his bedroom, returning with a couple of condoms and a tube of lube. But Justin isn't on the couch. He's standing by the counter with the pint of ice cream beneath his fingers. He pries off the top. Dips a finger into the softening top layer. Leisurely licks off the ice cream. Brian's focus zeroes in on Justin's mouth as it closes about his fingertip, a drop of cream clinging to his swollen lower lip. He growls deep in his throat and drops the condoms and the lube on the table next to the leather chaise lounge.

Justin saunters over to Brian, carrying the pint of ice cream. Pushes Brian down and places the ice cream next to the lube. Commands his lover's attention as he strips. Feeling Brian's eyes press into and stroke his flesh as he reveals chest, belly, thighs, and buttocks. Then, naked, he straddles Brian. Shivers as Brian draws him closer and they begin kissing again. He works Brian's shirt open and off and brushes his lips across his nipples, flicks his tongue over the stiffening nubs. The tip of Brian's tongue appears from between his lips. He leans back and lets Justin do all the work. Coaxing his flesh to harden. Drifting into a haze of pleasure he jerks as something cold makes contact with his skin, causing his nipple to draw to a head. And then Justin's lips close about the aching point again and the warmth spreads and he can't remember the cold, can only feel Justin's hot breath.

Making his way down Brian's lean torso, leaving sticky lip prints on his skin, Justin tears open Brian's jeans and kisses his belly, his chin tickled by strands of pubic hair. Brian raises his hips but Justin doesn't slide the jeans down any further. Instead, he works his hand inside of Brian's briefs and draws his cock from its snug confines. His eyes fixed on Brian's, Justin allows his lips to graze the head of Brian's dick, so gently it's as if he had only blown his breath across the tip. Placing the mushroom-shaped cap against his lips again, he slowly opens his mouth and takes it in. Soon his head is bobbing over Brian's lap as he goes down on him, leisurely, throat relaxed, enjoying every spit-slicked inch.

The muscles in Brian's calves tense as he raises up onto his toes, trying to drive the sensation of coming out of his groin and down into the soles of his feet. His back arches and he grips the edge of the lounge. Glances down and sees his shaft emerge from between Justin's lips, hard, glistening with saliva. Before he can warn Justin that he's getting close, he's released. His cock slaps against his belly. His jeans and briefs are wrenched over his feet. Justin straddles him again, this time facing away from him. Dives onto his cock and begins sucking him all once more. With one hand he holds Brian's dick upright and with his free hand, he scoops a palm full of ice cream. Brian grunts and holds his breath, certain that he is going to come soon. And then Justin closes his hand around his shaft and he shouts. All thoughts of coming are driven away by the icy sensation in his groin . His balls draw up against his shaft. Ice cream drips down his cock, quickly followed by Justin's tongue. He lets his head drop back against the lounge. "Fuck," he whispers harshly. Takes a deep breath. "Fuck." Two could play at this game.

Justin is lost in the feel, the taste of Brian's cock. He doesn't know if the caffeine in the ice cream is contributing to the high he's feeling, but he's definitely wired. Sucking Brian's dick sometimes made him feel like a bolt of electricity was going through his body. Or better yet, like they were linked and sending information along an coaxial cable that connected them through Brian's cock and Justin's throat.

Opening his eyes, Brian is greeted with the sight of Justin's smooth, gently sloping backside. Raising up, Brian grips Justin's thighs and kisses a creamy cheek. Kisses the other. Spreads apart the two pump globes, centers his face over Justin's hole and blows softly, disturbing the fine hairs there. Justin moans around Brian's cock. Brian flicks his tongue over Justin's taut, pink rosebud. The petals tighten then relax. He encircles the wrinkled hole with his tongue, washes around and then over the flushed flesh until Justin falters momentarily, unable to do anything but enjoy this possession. Pausing, Brian reaches for the pint of ice cream. Runs two fingers all the way around the inside rim of the carton. Withdraws them. He lays his cheek against Justin's left one. "Open wide." Justin reaches back and grabs the opposite buttock, opening himself to Brian's mercy. He breathes around Brian's cock as clever fingers paint his hole strawberries and cream. Releasing Brian's cock, Justin cries out as an agile tongue follows, lapping him clean. "You scream…" He recaptures Brian's cock and gives it a hard suck. Brian grunts and pants, "I scream…" He groans with his mouth sealed over Justin's hole. Breathes, "We all scream…" And then his fingers begin again, not stopping at the outer rim, but venturing inside. This time when Justin lets his cock slide free, it's for good. He can hardly move, doesn't want to do anything to disturb Brian at his delicious work. Brian waits until Justin's breathing stabilizes and then he plunges deeper, resting again for a moment before his fingers retreat back up Justin's moist channel.

Justin's breath comes ragged against Brian's thighs as his lover finger fucks him, replenishing the ice cream lubricant as needed. They continue like this for a while and then Brian removes his fingers. Ice cream drips down over Justin's balls and Brian licks his sac, sucking each of his balls into his mouth. Justin's dick is so hard he's afraid that if Brian touches it, he'll explode. But Brian does touch him, stroking his cock as he feeds on his balls, and he doesn't explode although his entire body is flushed and he feels like he's at the center of a nuclear meltdown. His balls slip from Brian's mouth and he feels Brian's hands on him, signaling for him to turn around and he does. He is barely aware of Brian opening and unrolling the condom over his cock but he does feel Brian's fingers enter his asshole lubing him up. Feels Brian's hands on his waist, urging him to squat. Although his eyes are closed, he can see in his mind's eye his ass hovering over Brian's cock. He holds onto Brian's shoulders and lowers himself until he feels the latex-covered cock head press against his hole. He takes a deep breath and pushes down. The broad head of Brian's dick opens him up, stretches his sweet, slippery lips, passes through the relaxed ring of muscle. He releases the breath he had been holding and continues to descend upon his lover's cock until he feels Brian's pubes scratching his buttocks. Brian draws his head down for a kiss, their tongues embracing, parting. He feels so full, his ass stuffed with cock.

They start out slowly, Justin rising and falling with an easy rhythm, Brian moving at a minimum, then a little more, and still a little more, feet pushing against the floor to steady himself. Brian slowly exhales as Justin's muscles clasp and palpitate his shaft. To be able to forget, that's what fucking does for him: it allows him to forget everything except for the act itself. The way Justin's ass tightens at the end of a stroke and holds onto him, embracing him, urging him to expand, to plunge and possess. His tongue invades Justin's mouth just as his cock stabs him below. His mind is blank, empty of any other thoughts; he is totally in and of the moment, mind and body working in concert. Gradually the pace increases and the chaise lounge begins to complain, their vigorous movements straining its joints.

Justin stands up completely, letting Brian's dick slip from inside of him. But before Brian can complain, the boy turns around and straddles the chair again. Taking his cue from the teen's actions, Brian unfolds himself and moves in behind Justin. Pushes him over so that he has to hold onto the edges of the lounge to keep his balance. Grabs one hip for support. Holds his cock in his other hand and feeds it into Justin's ass. Justin shudders, moans, and sways his hips back to meet Brian's thrusts. Cries out as Brian penetrates him. They struggle, bodies jerking one against the other. All finesse forgotten in the urge to finish, to come. They love without words, their actions sufficient where a hundred words could not begin to describe what they feel, what they need. There is only the mambo music and the mellifluous sounds of fucking: of flesh slapping against flesh, muscles tensing and relaxing, stolen breaths, abrupt exhalations.

Brian stays deep inside Justin, the time between strokes decreasing, humping him, his cock expanding inside the condom, preparing to blow. He bites the back of Justin's neck gently and rams his cock into him. A bolt of electricity shoots from the base of his spine through his shaft inflaming a spot halfway up Justin's hole. Justin shouts and comes, Brian but a moment behind him. Cum splatters the soft leather of the chaise lounge. Brian cups Justin's cock in his hand and feels it throb before releasing another creamy wad in his palm. Justin sinks into the lounger, cock still spitting, Brian's pulsating inside him.

Withdrawing, Brian lays back on the lounge, his vision sharpening once more. Justin remains slumped over, breathing deeply, muscles still trembling slightly, and Brian is struck by the vulnerability in his pose, in the round buttocks and curved spine, the lowered head. It is at these moments that he seems most child-like, after they've fucked, when he's wide open to attack. Brian could shred him with an unkind word or gesture. Instead, it is then that he feels most protective of the teenager. He reaches over and strokes Justin's thigh. "Come here," he whispers and Justin turns and straddles his hips and they kiss, lips barely touching, connected once more.

 

Twenty minutes later Brian is regretting the tenderness he's shown as Justin cuts into him. "I bet you're secretly wishing that the phone would ring and it would be him." Him, being Mikey.

"I said shut the fuck up." He knocks back a swig of Jim Beam. Searches for the right words in his alcohol- and sex-hazed mind. "His life was just gonna hang there, like some shirt in the closet you're never gonna wear."

Justin continued to dress. "So you pushed him away."

"It was the only course of action." The regret in his voice alarms him and he bites down on the bitterness that swells.

"Yeah, but now he hates you."

Christ, that kid. Won't let anything go. He forces himself to say, "It's okay. As long as Mikey's happy."

Pausing, Justin studies Brian for a moment, seeing a person he hardly recognizes, a face Brian has been unwilling to let him see, the countenance of a man who cares, who loves. "God. You must really love him." But the thought doesn't sadden Justin, on the contrary it gives him hope. If Mikey, then maybe him too.

"I think it's time for you to go."  
He passes by Brian and playfully cuffs him on the side of the head with his sleeve. "It always is." Finds his shoes and slips on the Nikes without untying them. "Luckily you can't push me away." He leans in. "I'm onto you." Smiling, he goes to pick up his backpack.

Brian watches him in bemused confusion. Fucking kid.

 

Justin's scent lingers long after he has gone: on the leather seat, Brian's fingers, his lips. His words as well refuse to vacate the premises. _"God. You must really love him."_ Brian finishes off the Jim Beam. The photo strip and the posters of Mikey catch his eye again. Setting the bottle down-catching it after he misses the first time-he crosses unsteadily to where the posters hang. Without thinking, he tears the strip from the wall. It rips in two. The sound stops him cold and he stands, numb, holding one half of the photo in hands that begin to shake. Opening his fingers, he lets the paper fall. It collapses in a heap like so much refuse. Through the window the moon watches without comment. He stumbles to bed to sleep it off.


	10. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin's trying to study for his SATs and Brian just wants to play.

“Are you sure you don’t mind me using your computer?” Justin asked as he logged onto the web and brought up Netscape.

Brian rolled his shirt sleeves to above the elbow and ran his fingers through his hair, checking his appearance in the mirror. “As long as you don’t delete any of my files or download any porn to the hard drive.”

Justin pressed his lips together in an effort not to say anything and failed. “What about reading your email?” he asked with a grin.

“If you can figure out the login name and password, go for it,” replied Brian. “Save me the trouble of clearing out the troll roll.” He walked over to where Justin sat and glanced at the screen to make sure the teen wasn't really trying to access his email account.

“You mean you don’t attract only the finest?” teased Justin.

As he passed by Justin, Brian pressed his knuckles into his back and pushed him forward. “It’s not the steak’s fault if flies start to buzz around it.”

“Flies wouldn’t buzz if you didn’t leave your meat lying around where they could get to it,” Justin retorted. Brian shot him a look but didn’t say anything. “You going out?”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I really need to concentrate, that’s all,” he said typing in the address for wordflash.com, a free online vocabulary builder. Then, looking over his shoulder to where Brian stood near the kitchen counter, he asked, “You weren’t planning on bringing any tricks home, were you?”

“Would that disturb you?”

“I only need a couple hours.” He shrugged. “After that, what do I care? I don’t live here anymore.” That said he turned his attention back to the screen and logged into the service, having put Brian and his plans for the evening out of his mind.

Brian watched the bright head bend towards the computer screen in concentration. Like that, he had been dismissed. Pursing his lips, he leaned against the counter, perplexed. He could tell when someone was studiously trying not to notice him, and that was just as good as being actively pursued; but Justin appeared to be completely oblivious to his presence. He pushed from the counter and crossed the room, noisily climbing the steps to his bedroom. Looked back. Justin hadn’t moved, hadn’t given any indication that he was aware of Brian still being in the apartment. Narrowing his eyes, Brian sat on the bed and pondered his next move.

Flying through the word lists, hampered only by the speed of the website, Justin figured he might get through in less than two hours and then he could get in some extra studying for his chemistry test. The words weren’t really difficult, even the advanced ones, but it was good to go through them anyway because you never knew when a simple word could trip you up. Especially if you were dealing with shades of meaning. It was a good thing the people at the SATs didn’t know Brian, he knew more about shades of meaning than anyone Justin had ever met. Nothing he said could ever be taken at face value. Nothing he did was ever easy to decipher. His motives were usually hidden, maybe even from himself. Justin didn’t know. All he did know for certain was that life was certainly a lot more interesting and challenging since he had Brian. He looked at the word on the screen and blinked. Lost his concentration for a moment. Pushing Brian to the back of his mind, he returned to the task at hand.

Maybe tonight was a good night to stay in, thought Brian. Wednesdays were slow at Babylon, it wouldn’t hurt to stay home and get some rest, actually get eight hours sleep instead of four or five. Or less. He rolled his eyes. God! He was letting Justin get to him. Who cared if a fucking kid was ignoring him? He could go to Babylon and have his pick of the place. Snorting, he stood. Fuck it. He’d meet the guys at Babylon, work up a good sweat on the dance floor, and then do a slow cool down in the back room. Lips curled at the edges, he said a mental goodbye to Justin and started down the steps. Justin looked up and smiled, returned to his work. Fuck. Brian sat back down.

Ten minutes later he had taken off his boots and socks. Stretched his toes. He laid on the bed, on his side, head on his arm, and looked at Justin work. Turned over and gazed at the ceiling. Undid one button on his jeans. Took hold of the zipper and pulled. The sound of the teeth unzipping was like thunder in the quiet of the room.

Justin heard the zipper running down its tracks and paused with his finger over the mouse. Without moving, he shifted his gaze from the computer screen to the bedroom. Saw Brian stretched out on the bed with his hand over his groin. Shit… His lips parted of their own accord. With great difficulty, he returned to his work, a few seconds elapsing before he actually saw the screen in front of him and not Brian.

Nothing. No reaction. When Brian looked over at the teenager, he was still busy with his fucking vocabulary building program. Well, maybe it was time to turn up the fire. Taking hold of the waistband of his jeans, he raised his hips and was just about to pull them down over his thighs when someone knocked at the door. It had to be Mikey. He and Lindz had the code to his building but Lindz wouldn’t be here at this time of night. Zipping up his jeans, he got up and padded over to the door.

“I would have gotten it,” Justin said.

Brian snapped, “Get back to your work,” and snatched open the door. There, on the other side of the threshold were Mikey, Emmett, and Ted.

“Where the fuck where you?” asked Michael needlessly, pushing past him. Emmett and Ted followed. “Hey, Boy Wonder.”

Justin raised his head without taking his eyes off the screen. “Hey.”

Sashaying over to where he sat, Emmett looked over his shoulder. “Anything interesting?”

“Vocabulary.”

Emmett batted his eyelashes. “I admire a man with good oral skills.”

Ted quipped, “I’d like to see that on a standardized test: Verbal, Qualitative, Quantitative, and Oral.”

Snickering, Michael again asked Brian, “So what happened?”

“Got a late start,” he replied.

Glancing knowingly at Justin, Michael said, “Uh-huh.”

“Not because of that.”

Leaving Justin to his work, Emmett and Ted joined the other two at the dining table. “So?” asked Em, “are we going or what?”

“You’re going,” replied Brian. “I’m staying home.”

“Babysitting?” Ted inquired.

“Fuck you.”

Ted grinned. “Save it for Justin, I think he’s expecting it. Reward for a hard night’s work.”

With a look of concern, Michael asked, “Are you sick?”

“No,” Brian answered, getting a little exasperated by their questions. “You act like I’ve never stayed home before.”

“Not without a good reason,” Michael replied.

“Maybe he’s afraid Justin is gonna steal some of his online fuck buddies,” suggested Emmett. “After all, when Justin says he’s eighteen, he’s got the birth certificate to prove it.”

Brian rose. “You can go now.”

Catching Em and Michael’s eye, Ted winked. “I think Brian has a good idea. We should stay in too. We can play poker. Or poke him.”

Before Brian could respond, Em suggested, “Old Queen.”

“Go Dish,” Michael added.

Justin glanced from across the room. “Would you keep it down? I’m trying to work over here.”

Giving them a long-suffering look, Brian said, “You see? The boy is trying to work. So would you please go?”

Ted crossed his legs. “You must have some games around here. To keep the juvenile element entertained. Something like ‘Candyassland?’”

Joining in the fun, Em asked, “’Hung Man?’”

Michael laughed. “’Cooties?’”

The guys broke up at that and laughed so hard Ted had to wipe a tear from his eye.

From over in the corner came a growl. Justin exited his program and stood. Brian cocked his head. “You’ve done it now.”

“Maybe he’s gonna give us each a spanking,” said Em. “I hope.”

Eyes blazing, Justin crossed to where the four men were and stood, arms folded across his chest. “If I don’t do well on the SATs, I’m gonna end up working at the diner for the rest of my life, and I’m gonna live with each of you on a rotating basis.”

“Sex in exchange for room and board?” pondered Ted. “Okay.”

Em considered the proposition. “I don’t know. I’m not into chickens. Maybe he could paint my toenails instead and do my fine washables.”

Sticking out his tongue, Justin stomped off to the bedroom and dropped down in the middle of the mattress. Sat glaring at them. Then he leaned back on his hands and opened his legs.

Michael glanced over at Brian who had been following Justin’s movements with his eyes. He could see that Brian had already forgotten them in the wake of Justin’s obvious invitation. Signaling to the other two, he stood. “Gotta go.” Clapped Brian on the arm. “Thanks for the hospitality.”

“The refreshments were divine,” added Em.

“And the conversation, as always,” began Ted, “scintillating.”

Brian returned his attention to his three friends. “You haven’t gone yet?”

“Does this mean I might actually score since he’s staying home?” asked Ted as they exited the loft.

Emmett replied, “No, honey, just another rejection from the guy or guys he would have been with.”

“Oh.”

Pausing at the door, Michael looked back at Brian. “Are you picking me up tomorrow?”

“Yeah. See ya, Mikey.” Turning around, he smiled.

Michael’s chest tightened. “See ya.” And they were gone.

He locked the door behind them and returned to the bedroom where Justin was still seated, open-legged. “Taking a break?”

Justin shrugged out of his shirt and threw it on the floor. “I’m through for the night.”

Shaking his head, Brian climbed the stairs. “No. You’re not.” 

 

They gnawed at one another’s lips, chewing on swollen flesh, licking saliva from the corners of mouths, thrusting tongues inside warm caverns of need. Brian closed his lips about Justin’s tongue and sucked the length of it. Released him. “Tell me what you’ve learned,” he whispered, lapping the skin of his neck just below his jaw and chin.

Justin eased Brian back on the bed. Leaned over until his mouth concealed Brian’s nipple. His warm breath tickled his lover’s sensitive skin. Gently, he encircled the entire nipple with his tongue. Felt the flesh begin to draw to a point. He kissed the tip. Suckled at Brian’s breast. “Vertex,” he said, flicking his tongue over the stiffened flesh. “The pinnacle, the peak, the apex.” Brian inhaled and raised his chest, feeding Justin more of his nipple. The teen gave the bud one last lick and moved to the other side. By the time he was finished, both of Brian’s nipples were erect. He kissed them both and smiled at his lover. “Vertex.”

In a breathless voice, Brian said, “More.”

Kissing a path down Brian’s torso, Justin paused to run his lips over his partner’s ribs, then finished with his detour, he continued towards his objective. Brian shivered as Justin’s tongue dipped into his navel and played among the folds. “Orbicular,” said Justin to describe his belly button. Then explained, “Round, circular, ring-shaped.” He kissed around the depression to emphasize his point.

Careful not to touch Brian’s cock, Justin resumed his trek down the length of Brian’s body. Opened his thighs and smoothed the long muscles there, his fingers moving between knee and groin in even strokes. “Glabrous.” He decreased pressure as he neared Brian’s groin, using only the lightest of touches. “Hairless. Depilated. Bare.”

Sliding his hands around Brian’s hip, Justin turned him over on his stomach. Parted his legs. Opened his cheeks with his fingers, exposing Brian’s wrinkled hole. He moved his face in closer, only a few inches away, and said, “Nadir.” The hairs around Brian’s anus trembled in the wake of Justin’s breath. “The bottom,” he said enunciating clearly, and Brian’s buttocks tensed. “The depths.” He let a glob of saliva fall from his lips into the tightened cavity, then rubbed both halves of Brian’s ass together to work the liquid into and around his hole until it glistened. Brian grunted as Justin’s tongue circled his hole without touching it. Making wide circuits around the basin of his ass. Blazing a trail from behind his balls to the top if his crack, bypassing his anus altogether. Over and over Justin made forays into the area near his hole without actually breaching the outer perimeter. Then, just as Brian thought the torture would go on indefinitely, Justin’s tongue slithered over the surface of his anus. The edges retracted. Again, the tongue glided over the folds and Brian gasped. As he relaxed again, Justin pushed with the tip of his tongue. Brian raised up and moved his cock back between his legs. It was stiffening and demanded attention.

Justin withdrew his tongue from the inner recesses of Brian’s ass and used it to lick his cock instead. From tip to balls, he laved Brian’s dick, leaving no inch of skin unexplored. Opening his mouth around his sac, he sucked gently at first and then, when Brian seemed to demand more, he increased his activities, fairly chewing on Brian’s balls.

After a few minutes of this, Brian motioned for Justin to stop. In the intermission, he turned over and presented his partner with his nearly erect cock. Justin wasted no time in diving in and going down on him. Teeth sheathed, mouth and tongue hungry for the taste of cock. Brian held his cock by the base, freeing Justin’s hands to stroke his balls, to probe between his cheeks. Justin spat on Brian’s cock and spread the saliva around with his mouth. Came up again. Another shower of spit. And Brian wanted to scream. His dick was so hard it ached. The head was firm and filled with blood, the shaft as well. As he watched, Justin rubbed his face against his cock. Kissed the bump at the base. “Turgid.” Licked around the flared head. “Tumescent.” Kissed the tip. “Swollen.”

He climbed up on Brian, his own cock hard, lay down upon him and began to rub his groin against Brian’s. Brian wrapped a leg over his hip and rolled Justin over onto his back. Kissed his mouth firmly. Then began crawling down his body. Stopped at his nipples and tugged on the ring. Both nipples were hard nubs on his chest. Brian kissed both. “Vertex.” Continued moving down. “Orbicular,” he said, giving Justin’s belly button a thorough washing. When he finished saliva had gathered in the folds. Instead of going for Justin’s thighs, Brian went for his sac. Parting his legs, he closed his mouth around one side of Justin’s sac and tugged. Justin cried out as Brian sucked on his balls. Shifting them about in their sac and then releasing them to slide slowly back into place. They were still hairless from the time Brian had shaved him. He said around one ball, “Glabrous.” Sat up and used his thumb to separate them, rubbing up and down the dividing point. He raised his hand and spat upon his fingers, returned them to their place, thumb on Justin’s ball sac, fingers beneath his ass. One probed between his cheeks and upon finding his hole, began to tease him. Brian rubbed against the tight opening and was rewarded when Justin exhaled sharply. He eased his finger inside when next opportunity presented itself. “Nadir.”

Justin arched his back as Brian’s finger continued to move in and out of his hole slowly. He raised one leg and lay his foot against Brian’s shoulder, opening himself up for more. And Brian didn’t disappoint. Easing another finger in along side the first, he stiffened both and began to fuck Justin’s hole. After a few minutes of this, he withdrew his fingers and climbed off the bed. Dug around in his toy chest. Returned to his lover. Sweat glistened on both their bodies.

“What’s that?” Justin asked. He had never gone through Brian’s chest of toys, preferring to be surprised and pleased by whatever emerged from its depths.

“These,” Brian corrected, “are anal beads.”

Justin sat up and looked at what Brian held more closely. There were about fifteen, small rubber beads on a nylon string.

“I have large, wooden ones,” Brian explained, “but I think we should start out slow.” He curled the beads in his hand and squeezed lube into his palm, rolled them about to moisten them. “Roll over.” Justin laid on his stomach. “Now, relax.” He tried. Brian pressed the first bead against his hole. The smooth surface was pleasing. He felt his lips parting to emit the bead as Brian pushed it into him. He uttered a low cry as it passed through his sphincter. “One.” It felt strange and yet pleasurable to have the bead inside him. He squeezed his buttocks and felt the bead shift. Brian fed him another. And another. “Three.” By the time they were up to five, his ass had come to long for the feel of the sphere entering his hole. Brian inserted ten of the beads and paused. “Ten,” he announced quite unnecessarily, because Justin was keenly aware of the number. As he was also aware of his hard-on caught between his belly and the bed.

“Can I turn over?” he asked and Brian assented, smiling when he saw Justin’s erection.

Instead of injecting the other five, Brian used the beaded rope to wrap around Justin’s dick. With his finger through the ring at the end, Brian closed his hand around his bed mate’s cock and rolled the remaining beads up and down his shaft. Justin cried out as the beads massaged his dick. Then, feeling Justin’s cock swell beneath his hand, Brian removed his hand but kept the beads around the girth of his dick. He tugged on the string and the first of the ten beads popped out of Justin’s ass. The teen shouted and grabbed the comforter in his fists. “One.” Brian tugged again. “Two,” he said as the second bead emerged. The combination of the beads exiting his hole and the string tightening around his dick was driving Justin out of his mind. His mouth hung open, emitting strange sounds that he wouldn’t have recognized if he heard them on a tape. Yet Brian knew them, they were the sounds Justin made when he was close to coming. And they made his throbbing dick harden even more. He wanted to fuck him so badly. He unwrapped the beaded string from around Justin’s cock and then, gently, yet at a more hurried pace, he eased the rest of the beads from out of his ass. Dropping the beads to the bed, he tore open a condom and unrolled it over his dick, raised Justin’s legs to his shoulders, and entered him.

They writhed about on the bed, joined in a struggle from which neither of them wanted to depart. Justin loved the way Brian fucked him, long, slow strokes alternating with quick thrusts, the way he swayed his hips from side to side as he entered and withdrew. Wanting to kiss, Justin clasped his hand around Brian’s neck and pulled his head down. They kissed as they fucked, joined above as below. Brian’s feet dug into the mattress for purchase as he pounded Justin’s ass; the muscles in his arms were like iron cords, supporting him while he lunged and rammed his way deeper inside the tight, warm tunnel.

“Oh, oh!” cried Justin as Brian continued to plunge inside him. He gripped Brian’s shoulders and ass, urging him on.

Brian stopped kissing him long enough to say in a voice hoarse with desire, “Tell me.”

Between breaths, Justin whispered, “Harder.” Brian withdrew, then slammed against him. “Yes!” He buried his face against Brian’s neck, then flung his head back, clenching his teeth. Oh God, he could feel it, close but evasive, like a ball of sunlight that warmed your fingers but was impossible to hold. He exhaled in short gusts. Brian’s cock felt so good, he never wanted it to withdraw, and he wanted to come so bad because he knew it would feel a hundred times better to have Brian’s dick in his ass while he came.

Brian ground his groin against Justin’s backside and growled. Bit the side of Justin’s neck gently as he humped him. Withdrawing less and less, strokes shorter, he wanted to dig in as deep as he could and stay. Apparently, that’s what Justin wanted to do as well. His ass muscles clamped down on Brian’s dick and convulsed. Shouting, Brian felt the first spasm in his balls. Cum spurted from his prick, caught by the condom. At the same time, Justin moaned, cum flowing from his dick to spread over his belly. Each wave of his orgasm brought forth another generous emission, matched by the eruption inside his ass as Brian came. 

 

Looping the beads over the knobs in the shower, Brian turned off the water. He and Justin emerged and dried themselves off. “You staying?” he asked.

Justin grinned and eyed Brian’s dick, back to its normal state but still reddened. “You were so good at vocabulary, that I thought I’d get you to help me with the math too.”

Brian reached back inside the shower and removed the anal beads. “Then I’ll be needing these again.”


	11. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian tries to come to terms with his feelings for his father and Justin. Takes place the night of the Leather Ball and the day after.

Mel had taken the baby and gone. In the end there had been nothing he could do, except to go down himself and get the baby seat and put it in her car. Stand on the curb watching her strap Gus in the back. He didn't realize that he was holding one of Gus' beanies until they had driven halfway down the street. He presented an incongruous picture: the baby's small, soft, woven hat in his hands, the well-oiled leathers he wore. Too late to flag Mel down, he figured he'd give the hat back to Lindz when she showed up to kick his ass sometime tomorrow. Or the next day. Right now, Justin was waiting.

Entering the security code for the door he dispensed with the elevator, taking the stairs slowly. Giving himself time to think. Time to calm down. He was still revved up from his fight with Melanie. Still pissed at that asshole from Babylon. Fuck! What the fuck had he been thinking? Why did he do these things? He paused in the dimly-lit stairwell, leaned against the wall. Lindz would say it was because he was selfish. Hell, that's what any of his friends would say. He turned the baby's hat in his hands. But his own kid? Letting your friends down was one thing, but not being there for your kid, well… Well, that was Jack Kinney all over again, wasn't it?

There was no point standing in the shadows like some kind of fuckin monster. He took the rest of the stairs at a trot and slipped inside the apartment, sliding the door close behind him. Justin was sitting on the sofa with his back to the door. Probably waiting for his punishment. And it wasn't his fault. Mel was right about that much. Although, he was only gone for- Fuck. He shouldn't have gone at all. That was the point. He knew that. And yet…

He took off his jacket and hung it up on the back of a chair. Stripped off his shirt too. The pants he left on although he did unzip and kick off his boots.

The sound of the heavy shoes striking the back of the sofa startled Justin. He glanced around and caught sight of Brian standing behind him wearing nothing except a pair of low-slung leather pants. It was hard for the teen to imagine a more indecent sight. Brian did an about-face and headed for the refrigerator and a bottle of water, Justin supposed. His eyes were fixed on the sight of Brian's back tapering to his narrow waist, the narrow waist becoming the slender hips and the pert behind, which was all covered by the skin-tight leather pants. They were cut so low, Justin could see Brian's spine disappear at the top of his ass. Tearing his eyes away, he turned back around and resumed staring down at his hands.

"You want anything?"

Surprised that Brian was speaking to him at all, Justin muttered, "No." He fully expected Brian to start berating him for being such a fuck-up. But no one had told him you had to test baby's milk on your arm first to see if it was too hot. And what was too hot? Nobody had ever told him what too hot was. As Brian rounded the edge of the sofa and stalked over to an armchair into which he draped his long, lean body, Justin thought, _That's what too hot is._

Watching Justin squirm sort of took the sting out of Mel's dressing-down but not quite. It would take a lot more than that to take away the lingering, burning sensation where her words had landed like the strands of a cat-o-nine-tails whip. Just thinking about whips brought a smile to his face. Imagine one of Ted's business school friends being a bondage Master. He'd pay money to see that guy do Ted. Better yet, if he'd do him and tape it so they'd all have a copy. That'd be better than almost anything. Almost. Shifting in the chair, he sat up with his legs open and leaned forward. As he'd anticipated, Justin jerked. He'd been watching Brian hungrily, tracing the outline of his leather-clad legs from his ankles to his crotch. "I asked you if you wanted anything."

"You don't want me to go?" Justin asked, eyes wide. Brian's shifting moods never failed to catch him off-guard. Of course, he guessed that Brian hadn't been able to satisfy his urges at the Leather Ball which was why he was being so charming now. Brian was nothing if not charming. When he wanted to be. They'd fuck and maybe Brian would let him sleep over and then in the morning he'd drive him back to Deb's and things would go back to the way they were. Except that he was tired of things being the way they were. Tired of the meaningless fucking. Brian leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. Well, maybe he wasn't tired of the fucking, just the meaningless part.

"Do what you want," Brian mumbled.

That did it. Justin rose and grabbed his coat.

"Where are you going?"

He paused. "You didn't pay for me."

Brian sat up in the chair and fixed his hazel eyes on the teen. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means that I'm not on-call for you to fuck whenever you want," Justin replied. "I'm going home." He took a step towards the door and closed his fingers around the handle.

"You need a lift?"

Justin's face went hot. He jerked open the door.

"Wait."

He did. Despite wanting more than anything to just walk away and leave Brian alone.

In a couple of seconds Brian got up and padded over to where he stood. Leaned his naked shoulder against the door. Pushed it close. They stared at one another, neither one making the first move.

"Is that it?" Justin asked finally. Brian bent his head to kiss him but Justin pulled away. "No."

Brian huffed and pushed past Justin. "I'm not in the mood for games."

"Neither am I. In fact," Justin continued surprising himself, "I'm fucking sick of all the games you play."

He whirled around so quickly Justin took a step backwards involuntarily. "Me? I never play games."

"What about how you treated David? Coming onto him-"

"I told Mikey that was just a test."

"A game," Justin pronounced. "And the way you cock tease Michael all the time-"

Brian's face darkened and for a moment Justin was afraid that he had pushed too far and that Brian would explode. Instead of coming after him, he retreated. Stalked off to his bedroom.

Justin's heart was racing. So this was it. He pushed and Brian walked away leaving him with nothing. What did he think was going to happen? That Brian would suddenly admit that he cared for him? He had never even heard Brian say that he loved Gus and Gus was his son. The only person he had ever heard Brian say that he loved was Michael. And even then, he said it playfully. Although Justin suspected that when no one else was around, Brian's tone changed to something more serious, more believable. After all, Michael wasn't a fool. He wouldn't have hung around all those years waiting for Brian if Brian hadn't given him a damn good reason for doing so. At least Michael had the words. He had nothing. Sure, once, when the stars and planets had been in alignment, he had gotten Brian to admit that there were things about him that he loved, but that was a ways off yet from saying that he loved Justin. If he'd only admit that he needed him, that he depended on him for, for anything, that would be enough. For now. His thoughts were interrupted by Brian's return.

Still frowning, Brian stopped about three feet from Justin. Just stood there, studying Justin's face until the teen grew uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

"What?"

Brian closed the space between them. And this time when he reached out to kiss Justin, the boy didn't pull away. Parting from him, Brian held his face and ran his thumbs over his cheekbones. He looked as if he wanted to say something but couldn't.

Again Justin asked, "What? What can't you tell me?"

Brian caught his bottom lip between his teeth, looked away. "I don't know what else you want from me."

But Justin wouldn't accept that. "Yes, you do. You know exactly what I want. You just won't give it to me."

"This is all there is, Justin," said Brian releasing him.

"No, this isn't. You love Michael."

"I've known him almost all of my life." He walked away, unwilling to continue the conversation.

"Then why aren't you with him?" Justin followed Brian, stood talking to his back.

"Because you don't do friends."

Justin grabbed Brian's arm and yanked him around. He did it so quickly that neither one of them had time to really absorb what he had done. "Then maybe you should change your rule. Because-" He paused, releasing Brian's arm, began again. "Because either you admit that you care for me and we keep fucking or you admit that you care for me and we stop fucking, but I-I won't keep doing this."

Still unsettled by Justin's rebellion, Brian hissed a question. " **This** what?"

"Being convenient," Justin replied. "And uncomplicated."

"There is nothing uncomplicated about you. Or being with you," Brian retorted. Stealing some breathing room, he searched for his cigarettes on the counter and lit one. Was careful to blow the smoke away from Justin.

"I can walk away and you would never see me again. And your life can go back to being the way it was."

Looking over at him, Brian almost said the one thing that would end it all right now, but he clamped his lips shut and didn't give into the impulse. Took another draw on his cigarette and stubbed it out. "I don't do ultimatums." That was the best he could do.

Justin felt the tears stinging the corners of his eyes but he refused to give them free reign. Instead, he forced himself to continue, to say what he had to, "I guess you'd better find someone else to be president of your fan club." When Brian didn't respond, Justin walked over to the door and opened it. At the last moment he looked back, saw Brian push away from the counter and climb the steps to his bedroom, undo the zipper on his pants. Unnoticed, Justin smiled sadly and left.

As the door closed, Brian paused in his undressing and sat down heavily on the bed. 

 

"He just let you go?" Daphne asked furrowing her brow.

"What did you expect him to do? Run after me and beg me to stay?" Justin dug around in the bottom of the carton for the last of his ice cream.

Daphne offered Justin a spoonful of hers, she still had half a carton left. No way would she eat an entire pint of ice cream. Especially this late at night. Justin had the metabolism of a horse. Guys always did. He accepted her gift with relish and grinned. That really was his best feature. Daphne wondered if he hadn't been gay, if they hadn't been best friends… But they had always been best friends and he had always been gay. Even when he hadn't known it. "So did you mean it?"

"Yeah." But he answered too quickly and they both knew it. He returned her ice cream. Licked the back of his spoon. "No." Lowered his head. "I waited outside his apartment building for ten minutes hoping he would come out." He dropped his spoon inside the ice cream carton. "I knew he wouldn't though."

Taking a last bit of ice cream, she popped on the top and set it on the night stand in Michael's old room. Even though they had grown up a decade apart in time, Michael's room reminded her of Justin's room. She supposed most teenagers' rooms were pretty much the same. Within variations. Whenever she had gone into Justin's room she had wondered if his parents were blind. How could they not have known he was gay? His room was like a shrine to the male body. No one was that interested in the human form for art's sake. Michael's room was more subdued, not as many posters. And the ones he had were mostly confined to a post-it board. There was a picture of Michael and Brian pinned to the board. Daphne leaned back against the headboard. "I can't believe how he treats you. And after you got him out of that mess with Kip."

"Daph!" Justin looked around as if he expected Debbie or Vic or Michael or Brian himself to be in the room with them. "That's a secret. You can't tell anybody."

"I'm just telling you," she replied. "And you told me, so like your secret's safe."

"Just don't tell Brian. You can't ever tell him."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah, I'll be sure not to mention it during one of our weekly heart-to-hearts." Justin glared at her. "It's not like I go out of my way to talk to him."

"You went to Woody's to find him that time," he pointed out to her.

"Only because you had run away," she said clarifying the situation for him.

Justin chuckled. "I still can't believe you hit him."

She ducked her head and grinned. "Me neither. Except that I had seen him naked and it's kind of hard to be afraid of someone when you've seen them naked."

But Justin disagreed. "That day when he came home and found me wearing his shirt and my shit all over the apartment, he yelled at me and I was afraid of him."

"Yeah, and you've seen him naked lots of times."

"And the time he was robbed and he told me to get out. I thought he was gonna hit me. Except that Michael was there and he would have stopped him."

Daphne thought about it. "I don't think he would hit you. He likes you. I can tell."

Joining her at the head of the bed, Justin sat next to her, their shoulders touching. "Yeah, but he doesn't love me."

"Give him time."

"How much time, Daph? It's been months." They both understood that sentiment. To teenagers months were like years. "I mean, I knew right away."

She cocked her head. "But he was your first. You know? And he's older. Can you imagine how many guys he's been with?"

Justin leaned closer and whispered, "Thousands."

Her mouth fell open. "No way."

He nodded. "Sometimes he does like twenty, thirty guys a month."

"Since he was fourteen?" she asked. Justin had told her the story of Brian's first sexual encounter and they both had agreed that Brian was like no one they had ever known.

"Well, he probably wasn't getting it as often until he went to college. And that was eleven years ago," explained Justin.

Daphne did a quick calculation. "OhmyGod, that's like two or three thousand guys," she announced in a hushed voice, stunned by the enormity of it all. Then she looked over at Justin, at the dismay on his face. "That's okay, though, because how many of them did he let live at his place?"

"None," replied Justin in a small voice.

"And how many did he take out to a fabulous restaurant for their eighteenth birthday?"

He smiled a little, recalling the faces of the other diners at the restaurant. Then the smile faded as he remembered how happy he had been afterwards, after Brian had taken him home and given him his presents. The sketch he had put up on the wall after securing Michael's permission. The necklace and charm he kept in a box in a secret place. It was too special to wear everyday, to risk losing or tarnishing. Like his memory of that night, he wanted it to remain intact and as is forever. "But that doesn't mean anything, Daph. Not to Brian. He does things like that one moment and the next minute he's in the back room at Babylon fucking some stranger. It's like he doesn't see anything wrong with it."

She took his hand and squeezed it. "You just have to be patient."

Exasperated, he exclaimed, "I've been patient!" Standing, he went over to the board and looked at the picture of Michael and Brian. How had Michael done it? Night after night seeing Brian go off with another meaningless trick? How had he kept from screaming? Every time he saw Brian with some other guy he wanted to die, because it hurt so badly. He tried to pretend that it didn't, tried to have some adventures of his own to make himself feel better. But no one even came close to making him feel what Brian did. Not even on a purely physical level. Brian was an incredible lover. He would have to be, to have been with that many guys. He knew a hundred, a thousand different ways to make you feel good. Except, all he really had to do was hold Justin.

"Maybe you should tell him about Kip. Maybe that would change his mind."

He turned, a panicked look on his face. "No. He would hate me."

"Why?" She was genuinely confused. "You saved him."

"He hates the idea of anyone or anything controlling him. If he found out that I was the one that got Kip to drop the suit, he'd freak. He'd think I did it just to have something on him, to try and force him to love me." Justin dropped to the bed, rubbed at his eyes. "I don't know what to do, Daph," he said softly.

Downstairs the phone rang. After a moment, Deb called up, "Justin! Telephone!"

Daphne met Justin's eyes. "Maybe it's him."

"Probably my mom." He hesitated.

She pushed him with her foot. "Go on."

He tickled the bottom of her foot and heard her dissolve into giggles as he left the room.

Deb was standing at the foot of the stairs holding the telephone. She had a strange look on her face. "It's Brian."

His heart started to race as he took the phone from Debbie and waited for her to go back upstairs. He sat in one of the kitchen chairs. "Hello?"

"Justin." Just hearing Brian's voice made him feel all tingly inside. "What do you know about Shrimp Etouffée?"

This was as close as Brian was ever going to get to apologizing, to making amends. It was up to him again to decide if it was enough. "I know how to make it," he replied, accepting Brian's terms. There had never really been any other choice.

"What about tomorrow evening?"

Even so, he figured he could tease Brian a little. "You need a caterer? Are you having a dinner party?" He could see Brian pressing his tongue into the side of his cheek.

"I'll give you money for the ingredients tomorrow at the diner." The connection died. Justin held the phone for a few moments longer. Shook his head.

Daphne found him leaning back against the kitchen counter, having hung up the phone. "So?"

"So, I guess I didn't really mean any of it," he said sadly. "I make this big scene and he lets me walk out without saying shit and then he calls and…" A tear slipped down his cheek. "I wish… I wish I could have told him to just fuck off."

She took a piece of paper towel and wiped his face. "Why didn't you?"

In the process of coming downstairs, Debbie paused as Justin replied, "Because I love him." Dispirited, Deb returned upstairs. Another one of her boys, lost to Brian Kinney. 

 

True to his word Brian had given him money for the etouffée at the diner. He had even managed to joke about tying his balls up when Justin had almost inadvertently revealed to Debbie that he hadn't stayed home with Gus, that he had gone to the Leather Ball. It wasn't so much that he cared what Debbie thought, Justin knew, but more that Brian was not in the mood for another lecture about being irresponsible, having had a blistering one from Mel and anticipating the mother lode of lectures when Lindsay got back.

Juggling grocery bags, Justin buzzed the loft. Brian buzzed him through wordlessly. That was either good or bad. Trying not to think too hard about it, Justin busied himself with maneuvering the elevator while carrying three bags. The door to the loft was open but Brian was nowhere in sight. Putting down the groceries in the kitchen, Justin first closed the door and then went about looking for Brian. Found him in the bathroom, naked.

"Hey."

Brian looked over at him. If Justin didn't know better, he would have thought that Brian had been crying. "Hey."

"I brought the stuff."

He nodded once. "I need to take a shower," he said.

Instead of offering to help, Justin turned to go. "I'll get started on the etouffée."

"Justin."

He stopped. Waited for Brian to say whatever it was he was trying to say. When nothing more seemed forthcoming, Justin said, "Yeah. I know."

Twenty minutes later the shower was still going and Justin began to get worried. Having chopped the vegetables for the base, he was just about to start the roux when a voice in the back of his mind told him to go check on Brian. Half expecting him to be asleep standing up, Justin was startled to find Brian in the shower, scrubbing furiously with a louffa sponge at skin that already looked raw. He seemed to be in a trance, his eyelids lowered and mouth slightly open. Justin watched him for a few moments, then went over to the shower and opened the door. Brian didn't turn, didn't seem to have noticed that he was no longer alone. Justin, heedless of getting his clothes wet, reached in and touched him. At that he jerked, looked down and around. "Brian?" The older man looked at the sponge in his hand, at the bright pink skin of his arm as if he were in a daze.

Reaching around him, Justin cut off the water, took the sponge away from him, then grabbed a towel and wrapped it around Brian's body. He was like a child, unresisting, allowing Justin to ferry him from the shower and over to the toilet. He sat when Justin pressed down on his shoulders and allowed the teen to dry his hair. He shook all over, limbs trembling. "What's wrong?" Justin asked when he had removed most of the water from Brian's hair and skin. When Brian didn't answer, he found Brian's bathrobe and got him into it. Shepherded him to the bedroom and onto the bed. Justin sat next to him and brushed the hair back from his face. "Tell me what to do."

"Did he say, when he found out, did he say that he wished you were dead?" Brian asked, voice toneless, but eyes bright with pain.

The words made no sense to Justin. "Who, Brian?"

"Your father. When he found out you were gay, did he say that he wished you were dead?"

Justin remembered everything he father had said and done and to his credit, Craig had never uttered those words. He shook his head. "No." And then he remembered the talk Brian and Deb had had at her house about telling Brian's dad he was gay. "Did your dad say that to you?"

Brian moved away and crawled under the covers, still shivering.

Debating whether or not to push it, Justin decided to give him some space. "I'll make you some tea," he said. But Brian didn't respond. He hadn't expected an answer.

Returning to the kitchen, he put on the teapot and tried to decide what to do about dinner. If he started the etouffée, it would require that he stir the roux for about a half-hour without distractions. And Brian, in his current state, was a definite distraction. Besides, he doubted if Brian was in the mood for dinner; he had certainly lost his own appetite. So he put the chopped vegetables away in containers and tossed the shrimp into the freezer. Maybe tomorrow.

When the water was ready he made two cups of herbal tea and carried them into the bedroom. Brian was still curled on his side under the covers. But he wasn't asleep. His eyes were wide open. What he saw, Justin didn't know. He set one of the cups on the nightstand closest to Brian, put the second cup on the other side. Then he kicked off his shoes, took off his wet shirt, and climbed onto the bed. He made no attempt to touch Brian or to do anything but just sit there and sip his tea.

Finally, Brian sat up and lifted the cup of tea from the nightstand, blew on it, and took a tentative sip. His hands shook. Justin reached over and steadied the cup. Brian put it down. "Thanks."

Sensing an opening, Justin said, "He didn't mean it."

"Yeah. He did." He smiled softly. "That's one thing about Jack Kinney: he says exactly what he means and exactly what he wants." Chuckled. "Remind you of anyone?"

"Brian…"

"He said that it should be me who's dying and not him." He plucked at the duvet. "They use it, you know? AIDS. It's the ultimate fucking weapon. Gets you right in the belly every time. No matter how careful you are, there's always the fear that maybe you didn't do something once, and that's all it takes." He very gently touched the still-reddened skin of his forearm. "I don't even know…" he began.

"Know what?"

"How many men I've been with." He didn't look at Justin as he spoke. "I could feel them. Touching me. There isn't an inch of my body that hasn't been touched by someone at some time or another. It felt like my skin was crawling." Hence the frantic scrubbing. He leaned back against the pillows. "Christ. I was standing there, looking at him, listening to him say… those things to me. And I thought, There's your future." He lifted the cup to his lips and took another draught, held the cup in his hands feeding off the warmth. "I looked into his face and I saw myself." He laughed bitterly. "You work your whole life not to be something and then you look up ahead and there it is, staring back at you, waiting for you to catch up." Shook his head. "Substitute designer drugs for cheap whiskey, men for women, and what do you have? Me." His hand trembled a little when he put down the cup, but it was his eyes that worried Justin. His eyes were so dark, so troubled. "I stood there looking at him and I thought, That's gonna be you someday. Dying. Only it won't be cancer, it'll be AIDS. And Gus'll be standing where you are, hating you for all the things you never did, for all the promises you made and never had any intention of keeping. "

"Gus'll never hate you. You're a good father."

But he shook his head. "No. I'm not. I'm a fantastic advertiser. I'm a great fuck." He paused. "But I'm not a good father. Melanie was right. I'm not any kind of father at all." He knuckled his eyes, where moisture had begun to gather. "Which I don't understand," he said sarcastically. His lip trembled. "Cause look at the sterling, fucking example Jack Kinney set."

Justin started to touch him, then changed his mind. "You're not like him. I know you make mistakes. Everybody does. But, at least, you try."

With wonder in his eyes, Brian gazed at Justin. "How can you still love me?" he asked in a whisper. "After everything I've done to you? Why do you still care?"

And then Justin did touch him, cupped his chin in his hand, his fingertips resting lightly on his face. "Because you do." He brushed his fingers over Brian's lips. "Even if you don't always say it."

Brian closed his eyes and a tear slipped from beneath the lid. It ran down his face and wet Justin's fingers. Raising his hand, he closed it around Justin's, and kissed his palm.

For the first time since they had begun having sex, Justin felt that they were actually making love, and not only fucking. The way Brian looked into his eyes as they moved against one another, seeing him and not just another body. Doing things he knew Justin liked, even if they weren't as artful as some of his other techniques. Kissing him for the longest time, holding Justin tight against his body.

That night as they lay together, Brian didn't work loose of Justin's embrace the way he usually did. Instead, he clung to him as if he were the last life preserver in an endless, empty ocean.


	12. Want/Need You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Brian got his bracelet. A story of lost love.

Brian popped in a CD and let the music transport him to his bedroom where he kicked off his shoes and changed clothes, shedding the day’s tensions piece by tailored piece. Then, like a man reaching for a drink, he slipped on the comfortable jeans, the buckle-strap black tee. Stood for a moment feeling the solid hardwood floors beneath his bare feet. Lately he had begun to think he lived on a fault line, experiencing upheaval after upheaval in such a short space of time that he hadn’t been able to fully process every event at the moment it occurred, operating primarily on instinct instead of analyzing the situation and formulating a plan of attack. If his life had been an ad campaign, he would have yanked it weeks ago. Hell, it wouldn’t have made it past the story boards.

Having regained his center, at least momentarily, he set about making plans for the evening. Dinner. Definitely. Then… Go on-line for an hour or so. With his hand on the door of the refrigerator, he glanced around at his computer. He had spent hours last night surfing cancer sites and emailing contact persons. Looking for what he couldn’t say. Hope? He shook his head, amazed at himself. And if by some miracle his old man did survive a little longer, then what? Father-son nights down at the bowling alley? Appetite effectively suppressed for the moment he headed for the computer and checked his email. Glanced down the list of names and subject lines. Clicked on the first message.

“FROM: **Bill@CancerCenter.org  
** TO: **BrianK@ Pittserv.com  
** **RE: Cancer Therapy**

Dear Kinney:

Thank you for your queries about cancer therapies - both traditional and alternative. We're forwarding a package to the address you sent us. It's understandable that you are grieving at this time, and we invite you to join one of our support groups for relatives of those with cancer. Meetings take place here at the Cancer Center. If you are interested we have groups on both Monday and Wednesday nights. Contact Monica at ext. 347 if you'd like to join.

Yours,  
Bill  
Director of Outreach”

Barely pausing for thought, he whipped off a reply.

“FROM: **BrianK@ Pittserv.com  
** TO: **Bill@CancerCenter.org  
** RE: **Cancer Therapy**

Thanks for the info.

B. Kinney”

He had way too many Father and Mother Confessors as is, no way was he going to spill his guts to a— “Fuck!” He read through the next message.

“FROM: **HOThrd4Now@Pittserv.com  
** TO: **BrianK@ Pittserv.com  
** RE: **Hook UP**

Nice profile. What are you into? Click link to see my pics. Let me know.

Tony.”

His fingers flew across the keyboard as if they had a mind of their own.

“FROM: **BrianK@Pittserv.com  
** TO: **HOThrd4Now@Pittserv.com  
** **RE: NO hook up**

****

****

Look "Tony"…last week you said your name was "Mike" and the week before that it was "Tom"…but it's all the same old - not too flattering - picture of you reading the newspaper in the nude: A) I don't accept headless pics, B) I don't do it with guys who send pics where I can see the date on a newspaper dated 1987 and C) I don't like guys who waste my time trying to sneak in under another name, hoping I'll be too drunk or drugged-out not to know it's the same old troll.”

Shaking his head, he shut down his email surprised there hadn’t been a message from Mikey. During the ride to and from work today Michael had rambled on and on about how wrong he had been about Hank and what a great kid he had turned out to be. He hadn’t asked Brian once how his weekend had gone, how he was coping with his dad, or anything. What surprised Brian the most was that it had actually hurt a little, that Michael was so oblivious to his subdued mood. He shook his head. Maybe Mikey had seen one too many dark clouds hovering over his head during the past fifteen years and figured if Brian wanted to share, he would. Only, he hadn’t known how to begin. He paused with his finger over the email program icon, debating. He could write Mikey, tell him everything, and… Nothing. He got up abruptly and moved to the sofa. Like Michael had said when he offered to give him a loan to help Deb with the mortgage, “She’s my mom and I have to take care of this myself.” Jack Kinney was his father and he had to take care of it himself. The problem was he didn’t know what to do. Writing a check wouldn’t solve this problem. And the cancer was only part of it, the other part was what to do about them, about their euphemistically called ‘relationship’.

The phone rang. Christ, he hoped it wasn’t his mom. He had promised his old man not to come out to The Warden and he’d keep his promise, but only if she stayed off his back. Snatching the phone from the cradle, he said, “Yeah.”

“Can I come over after work tonight?”

Justin. At least he had come directly to the point instead of beating around the bush like he usually did. He was learning. Unfortunately, Brian was in no mood to play. “Not tonight,” he said hanging up before he changed his mind, distracted by the memory of Justin’s eyes or lips. He had beautiful eyes, the same color as—

The thought rocked him, and he placed a hand upon the desk top to steady himself. He hadn’t thought about Cameron for a long time now. Years. Well, maybe not years, months. Christ, things had really gotten out of hand if he was thinking about Cam. Turning, he leaned back against the desk and took a deep breath. More than anything he wanted to go out dancing, out fucking. Forget everything. But he was too damn tired and needed to sleep and the drugs wouldn’t help, would only postpone the payment his body demanded. Besides that, he had an important meeting tomorrow, couldn’t show up hung-over or Ryder would take a chunk out of his ass. Since the sexual harassment fiasco his boss had seemed less inclined to forgive Brian’s foibles. No point in goading him. So he’d stay in.

Cameron. Now that the name had surfaced, he couldn’t push it back down below his normal level of awareness. Telling himself that he would only have one drink, he fixed a shot of Jim Beam and curled up on the sofa. Took a sip and set the glass on the coffee table. Looked longingly at the telephone. He could call Mikey and Mikey would come over and… And Michael was in a relationship, which meant that he couldn’t drop everything and come running when Brian called. Not anymore. And he couldn’t, wouldn’t call Justin back at the diner. God, if he even hinted that he needed him, the teenager would take it as a sign from God that they were meant to be together. So he’d have to tough it out alone. And it was a tough one. 

 

He and Cameron met their senior year in college. By then Brian knew what he wanted to do with his life. Advertising. He had interned at a firm the summer after his junior year and found that he loved the excitement, the energy generated by a roomful of creative minds throwing out ideas, the high he felt when all of the pieces fell into place and they had a plan, a strategy with which they could channel random desire into a concentrated need, focused on their product. One of the first lessons he had learned was that the point of advertising was to make the consumer want something so badly it hurt. Your relationship with your spouse gone sour? Can’t talk to your kids? Boss on your ass? What you need is X. Fill in the blank. It didn’t matter what it was. All that mattered was that the consumers went out in droves and bought it.

Senior year he returned to the university with a renewed sense of purpose. He intensified his studies, determined to be recruited by a top firm in the city so that he could start his climb to the pinnacle of his profession. That he would reach the top was a given, he only worried about the length of time it would take him. He wanted to enjoy the power for a goodly number of years and then retire young and still capable of enjoying the fruits of his labor. He and Cameron met in a marketing management class. Seated across from the smoky-haired, blue-eyed young man, Brian recalled having seen him around the College of Business Administration but apparently their paths hadn’t crossed frequently enough for them to have become acquaintances. Taking in Cameron’s dark good-looks Brian decided he’d have to change that. Fortunately, their instructor helped in the matter: he assigned them to the same work group. After class the members of the group exchanged telephone numbers and as he took Cameron’s and handed him his own, Brian caught a glimpse of interest in the other’s eyes. Giving his chewing gum a couple of chaws, Brian smiled.

It took a month and a half for Cameron to call him about something other than class. By then Brian knew two things: that Cameron was gay, and was definitely interested in him. He could tell by the way Cameron would steal glances at him during class or while their group was supposed to be working on their marketing strategy. Head bent over his notepad, Brian could feel Cameron’s eyes on him, the attention was like a beam of energy striking the crown of his head and traveling to the soles of his feet. His entire body tingled under Cameron’s gaze. On more than one occasion he had stopped himself from calling Cameron and inviting him over. Cameron would have to make the first move.

So when Cameron called and asked him if he wanted to come to a party he and his housemates were throwing, Brian combed his closet for something suitable to wear. He had already begun to assemble the wardrobe that would see through the early years of his career: youthful yet restrained, creative without screaming non-conformist. Pushing aside the modest-priced, yet stylish suits he had purchased during the summer on his intern paychecks, he found what he was looking for: a black sweater and a pair of grey pin-striped slacks. He had worn the outfit to a casual dinner held at an ad exec’s apartment and garnered appreciative looks from men and women alike. An hour later he had showered, shaved, run his fingers through his hair and was ready to head over to Cameron’s.

Despite the fact that a roomful of gyrating, bouncing, twisting people separated them, he immediately knew where Cameron was. He could feel him. A girl he knew from class grabbed at his arm and tried to pull him onto the dance floor but he deftly maneuvered around her and kept on target. He caught flashes of Cameron’s face through breaks in the crowd. From the impassive look he gave the world, no one would have guessed that Cameron was having to restrain himself from pushing through the dancers and grabbing Brian, but Brian could tell that was exactly what he was doing. Coming to a halt just a foot from Cameron, he glanced around before speaking. “Great music,” he commented.

Cameron gestured with his head towards the DJ. “Frank’s friend. Frank’s one of my housemates. They’re both total computer geeks. Won’t play anything but techno. The crowd’ll get ugly after about an hour.” His eyes had never left Brian’s face. “You want something to drink?”

“What have you got?”

Not put off by Brian’s circumspect reply, Cameron asked, “What do you usually drink?”

Brian grinned. “I’m Irish, so it’s faster for you just to say what you have,” he teased in an Irish brogue he affected from time to time.

“Come on,” Cameron said chuckling, “I’ll show you where we keep the good stuff.”

Through the back of the house and up the stairs they traveled, coming to Cameron’s room in the attic. It was locked. “I can’t fucking stand going to bed after one of our parties and lying down in somebody else’s cum.”

“They don’t break the lock?”

Cameron shook his head. “Too much effort. We’ve got four other bedrooms.” Unlocking the door he switched on the light and waited for Brian to come inside the room before locking it behind them. Brian noted the action without comment. Cameron squatted in front of a dark wood cabinet.

“No secret combination?” Brian quipped.

Without responding, Cameron removed a couple of bottles from the cabinet and stood. “Kentucky bourbon and Jamaican rum.”

“Who says Scots are cheap?”

Setting the bottles on top of the cabinet, Cameron hunted up two glasses, then took a seat on the bed. Waited. Brian located a chair out of the corner of his eye, picked it up and placed it in front of Cameron. Sat. Legs apart. Casual. Unscrewed the top on the bourbon and poured a healthy measure into his glass. Glanced inquiringly at Cameron who gave him the go ahead.

Glasses of bourbon in hand, they drank a toast. “To Marketing and Advertising,” suggested Cameron.

Brian agreed. “To making you want something so badly it hurts.”

“Only if you don’t get it,” added Cameron.

Over the rim of his glass, Brian asked, “Do you always get what you want?”

Glass held at his lips, Cameron replied, “I’ve got a 3.7 gpa and a kick-ass job lined up after college.”

Knocking back the last of his drink, Brian placed the glass back on the cabinet. Crossed his legs at the ankle and looked directly into Cameron’s eyes. “You’ll have to work harder.” He raked his hair back from his forehead and reached lazily for the bottle of bourbon. “It’s good.” Poured another shot, this time a smaller amount. Cameron hadn’t finished his first yet. Brian sipped the whiskey, savoring the burn.

Cameron didn’t need Brian to explain what he needed to work harder at. The challenge laid at his feet, Brian watched Cameron as he formulated a new strategy. After a moment, Cameron asked, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you always get what you want?”

Brian balanced his glass on his knee. “I don’t know what my gpa is right now and I don’t have a job lined up yet. I interned at Wexler and Finneman this summer but who knows.”

Pouring a second measure of bourbon, Cameron remarked casually, “You’re the best student in class.”

“I know.” Finishing off his drink, Brian set the glass down. “Better.”

Cameron placed his glass, the second round untouched, back down as well. “Good enough?”

The corner of Brian’s lip curled in a half-ass smile. “I told you, you’re gonna have to work harder.”

Leaning forward, Cameron said, “Maybe I need some feedback. Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

Brian uncrossed his legs and stood. “Where’s the challenge in that?” He turned his back to Cameron, began to walk around the room. He knew Cameron was looking at his ass, his shoulders, his slender thighs and legs. Stopping in front of a certificate of merit hung on the wall, he pretended not to hear the mattress creak as Cameron rose. Then he felt Cameron’s hands around his waist, his lips on his neck. “See,” he whispered, “you’re a smart boy after all.”

Fifteen minutes later they were wrestling on the bed, arms and legs entwined; mouths devouring whatever bit of flesh they could find; hands grabbing, kneading; cocks hard, leaking precum. Brian lay on his back as Cameron unrolled a condom over his dick, raised his hips as his partner spread lube along the shaft. Shifting positions, Brian on top, Cameron on his belly, they joined for the first time, Cameron catching the pillow in his teeth and holding on as Brian pushed inside him with a cry.

The bed complained as they thrust against one another, muscles straining with the effort to drive their bodies closer together. It was almost as if they wanted to become one person, for one to open up and the other to crawl inside, protector and protected. Brian licked a bead of sweat from Cameron’s jaw and pumped his hips energetically, responding to Cameron’s cries of encouragement, to the squeezes Cameron’s ass gave his cock. At last Cameron gave a low moan and grabbed hold of the sheets in his fist, his cock ground against the bed, cum flowing beneath his groin. As Cameron’s sphincter muscles gripped him in a series of contractions, Brian gasped and came.

Resting in one another's arms, the sheets thrown back, their sweaty bodies cooling in the night air, they listened to the party raging below them without really hearing the music, or the laughing people. Instead, they could only hear the sound of their two hearts beginning to beat one in time with the other. 

 

Brian reached for the glass of Jim Beam and drank half of it in one gulp. As the liquor burned his throat, he pondered retrieving the bottle from the bar. After looking at it longingly for a few moments, he got up and put on a CD instead. The music soothed him a little, but there was still so far to go and the night stretched before him like an endless highway, winding away down a ill-lit stretch of country. 

 

They were almost inseparable: Brian making time only for Mikey and Lindz, Cameron begrudgingly showing up for his fraternity’s monthly meetings, which were mandatory since he was an officer. The rest of their time was spent either working on class projects or fucking. The spring semester of their senior year passed in a haze of sweat-inducing, physically-exhausting sex. Sometimes Brian awoke after one of their bouts to muscle aches and bruises, each one of which he valued because it meant that they were holding nothing back, that if necessary they would fuck each other to death.

After graduation Cameron went to work in the marketing division of a local computer engineering firm; Brian was recruited by a high-profile ad agency. Feeling that they needed a few years to really establish themselves in their careers, they agreed not to move in together, reasoning that although they would have less time together they would also be less likely to grate on each other’s nerves if they didn’t share living quarters. Having witnessed some of his parents’ more spectacular battles, Brian was willing to sacrifice a few hours together for the sake of overall peace.

Still, they found plenty of time to be together. Most weekends from Friday evening to Sunday night they spent holed up in one or the other’s place, making rare appearances at the clubs during which they danced seductively with any and everyone, breaking hearts as they left together, so hot for one another they invariably stumbled into the backroom for a quickie before heading home.

Looking up as Cam’s key turned in the lock, Brian knuckled the sleep from his eyes and stretched. Raised his face for a kiss. “Hey.”

“You ready?”

He cracked his neck. “Can’t, babe, I gotta go to work in the morning. Those assholes on my team are way behind. I got two, three hours work to do tonight just to get ready to go in tomorrow.” He stood, running his hand along Cam’s arm in passing, and put on the coffee “You go without me. Have a good time.”

Cameron nuzzled the back of his neck, stroked his hip. “You sure?”

“Someone should have some fun around here,” Brian muttered.

“Tomorrow evening? Dinner?” suggested Cam.

Brian turned in his lover’s arms. “Just dinner?” They kissed. “Throw in dessert and you got a date,” he added. Both smiling, Cameron took his leave and Brian turned his attention to work.

Next morning Brian got up, hastily dressed, and grabbed his papers. It was still early enough that he could drop by Cam’s house and have breakfast together before heading into the office.

He knocked on the door and waited. Cam’s housemates were notoriously early risers. Even on Saturday. Frank never slept. At least none of them had ever observed the phenomenon first hand. True to form, the techno geek answered the door.

“Hey, Frank. Cam still in bed?” He started to push past Frank but the other man wasn’t budging.

“Bri…” He hesitated, unsure of what to say.

Chalking it up to too much house music, Brian repeated his question. “Is he still in bed?”

Frank glanced back into the house as if he were hoping Cameron would appear over his shoulder. “Yeah, he’s still in bed.” Although the answer appeared simple, the look he gave Brian filled in the subtext. And the subtext was that Cameron wasn’t alone.

For a moment Brian thought he had made a mistake, that somehow he had gone to the wrong house and by some freakish coincidence Frank was there answering the door and talking about some other guy named Cameron, who was upstairs with someone other than Brian. But the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach told him that he hadn’t made an error in navigation, although the world had suddenly become a strange land. He took a step backwards and paused. Found his voice crouching somewhere in a dark corner of his body and said, “Tell him I stopped by.”

He didn’t remember driving to work or parking in the garage or riding in the elevator to the eighth floor and getting off with Murphy, even though when he looked around Murphy was standing there next to him at the door to their office. The other members of the team were already seated around the conference table that occupied most of the floor space. As was their boss. So bullshitting time was over. Before he could put down his stuff, Hill was already rising and issuing orders, calling him into his office. He went as if he moved through water.

Hill looked up from Brian’s boards. “This is good work. Excellent really.”

Brian hadn’t heard a word he said. He was still standing on the front porch of Cam’s house wondering why Frank wouldn’t get out of the way and let him by.

“Brian?”

The voice finally reached him. He looked up and blinked.

“I said this was excellent work.”

“Thanks.”

Flipping the cover on the board, Hill studied his protégé. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he lied. “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. Working on this.”

Hill glanced out of his office window at the other members of the team scurrying about on the various tasks he had set them to, then back to the young man seated across from him. “You go on home. Get some rest.”

“You sure?” he asked, alert for any sign that Hill might be testing him, might be expecting him to refuse and to stay, performing some mindless, menial job that could wait until Monday.

“You’ve done your part. Good work.” Hill stood and clapped Brian on the shoulder as he passed him and opened the door to yell at Chambers for standing around like an ape in a cage.

It had taken all of his reserve energy to stop by the grocery store and pick up something to eat. Bags in hand he climbed the stairs to his apartment and found Cam seated by the door. Why he sat outside and hadn’t used his key to go inside they both knew. Saying nothing, Brian unlocked the door and pushed through, leaving it open for Cam. They didn’t speak as he put away his groceries and then shrugged off his jacket and tie, his shoes and socks. He hated wearing anything on his feet. Cam used to tease him, saying he had the toughest soles in all of Pittsburgh. In the middle of unbuttoning his shirt, he heard Cam say, “I’m sorry.”

He laughed, the inadequacy of the remark standing out as clear as black and white, as if it were painted across the wall of his apartment. “Sorry’s bullshit.” Aware of Cam’s eyes on him as he changed, he slipped out of his slacks and into a pair of jeans, not bothering to put on a shirt. “It was one night,” he said not looking at Cam. “The first night I didn’t go out with you and you went and picked up some trick and fucked him.”

“I’m sorry.”

Something in Cam’s voice told him that he had left something unsaid, that there were other details to unearth. Throat tight, he faced Cameron and studied his face. Forcing the words out, he asked in a tiny voice, a voice so small that it couldn’t have belonged to him, “This was the first time, wasn’t it?”

To Cam’s credit , he didn’t try to lie. He didn’t say anything, just shook his head.

The breath Brian had been holding rushed forth and he felt limp. Turning away, he reached blindly for something to steady himself and gripped the back of the couch. When he heard Cam moving closer, he held up his hand, palm outward, warning him to stay back.

“Bri…”

“Get out.” He waited for Cam to comply and when he didn’t, repeated in a much stronger voice, “Get out!”

Cam shuffled to the door and left, the sound of the lock catching a faint click in the quiet of the apartment.

With him gone, there was nothing for Brian to do but to sit and cry, tears falling in silence.

 

Michael looked up across the boxes of comic books to see Brian standing there. “What are you doing here?”

He was wearing a pair of sunglasses. “I knew you would be,” he said looking around the store at the other milling customers, at the garish displays, anywhere but at Mikey because if he did, sunglasses or not, Mikey would know.

Mikey knew anyway. Could hear it in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

Placing the comic back into its protective sleeve, Michael went around and took Brian’s arm, tugged on it. “Come on.”

They sat in his mom’s backyard at the worn-out picnic table. Deb was at work so they wouldn’t be disturbed. Michael had fixed them a couple of turkey sandwiches. No mayo. Appetite having vanished with Cam, Brian just picked at his.

“So what’s wrong?”

He removed his sunglasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose. Michael could see the bruised-looking skin around his eyes which meant he hadn’t slept for a while, or that he had been crying, or both. Wincing at the sun, Brian replaced the shades. “I found out Cam’s been cheating on me,” he said, only the last three words were barely whispered.

If someone had told Michael that the moon had turned blue he would have believed them before he believed that Cam would cheat on Brian. Why would anyone cheat when they could have Brian in their bed every night? Angry for both Brian’s and his own sake, Michael said, “Well, it’s a good thing you found out now, before you wasted any more time with him. I hope you told him to fuck off.” He stroked Brian’s forearm. “You should just forget about that asshole.”

But Brian, instead of concurring, began to cry. Tears spilled from beneath the edge of his sunglasses and he shook like an old man with the fever. “I can’t, Mikey. I can’t.”

“Christ.” Michael moved next to him and held him. “You can do better.”

“I love him.”

Michael removed Brian’s Ray-Bans and forced him to look up. “Listen. Don’t let him do this to you. You fucking tell him to straighten up or to fuck off. You hear? You wanna end up like your mom, always wondering where he is and who he’s with?” Brian shook his head. “Then you make him understand. If you want to keep him, you do it on your own terms.” Brian pressed his face into Mikey’s shoulder while Michael stroked his hair.

 

They met in the park, at a neutral place. Took a seat on a bench away from the yelling children and the screaming parents. Sat far enough apart that they didn’t touch. Looked straight ahead. Brian began speaking without preamble. “If I find out you’ve been cheating on me again, that’s it, it’s over. There won’t be any second chances, Cam, I swear it. I won’t be a fucking doormat for you to wipe your feet on.”

Quietly Cam replied, “I’m sorry.”

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Brian asked, eyes fixed ahead on an empty expanse of sky.

“I understand.”

Brian looked down at his hands and then back up again. Stood. “I’m going home.”

“Can I come?”

He paused and almost gave into the impulse, but he fought it down at last. “Not tonight.” Then, to show that he wasn’t being vindictive, he added, “Tomorrow. Come by tomorrow.” And he left. 

 

What’s this?” They lay snuggled together in the afterglow of making love, the first time since their big blow up, and Cam had reached into his jacket where it lay discarded on the floor, and drawn something, two somethings, from the pocket. He handed them to Brian, who looked at them and said, “What’s this?”

“Bracelets. Made with cowry shells,” explained Cam.

Brian smiled. “What? Like wedding rings only bigger?”

Nudging him, Cameron answered, “Yeah. So no one can miss them.” He held out his arm. “Put it on me.”

Solemnly, Brian tied the rawhide bracelet around Cameron’s right wrist and knotted the laces. That finished, he kissed Cam’s palm, let Cam draw him up for a more serious kiss. And then Cameron placed the other bracelet around his wrist and knotted the laces and kissed Brian’s palm.

“I love you.”

Brian leaned over him and kissed him lightly on the lips. “How much?”

Pretending to think, Cam said, “More than the ocean.”

“Fucker.” Another kiss. “Not good enough. How much?”

“More than ice cream.”

Another kiss. “Better. But still… not good enough. How much?”

Cam held Brian’s head still and kissed him deeply. “More than my life.”

Brian touched Cam’s lips with his fingertips. “Liar.” But he seemed satisfied and laid in his lover’s arms. 

 

Absentmindedly he ran his fingers over the cowry shells on his bracelet as he watched Cam dance with some guy. Tried to suppress the surge of jealousy he felt when he saw the man take hold of Cam’s arm, his right arm, his hand around Cam’s wrist. Looking away for a moment, he thought he caught a glimpse of the man putting something in Cam’s pants’ pocket. A flash of something white. A phone number maybe. And then Mikey came up behind him and dragged him onto the floor to dance and he changed his mind, thought that a light had probably flashed in his eyes at that exact moment, that was all.

Cam held his hands as he pressed down with his hips, impaling himself on his lover’s cock. His knees on either side of Cam’s waist, Brian threw back his head and panted while he rose and fell, rotating his hips, squeezing his muscles. Sweat fell from his hair onto Cam’s chest. He cried out as Cam wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked him. Shouting, he came, keenly aware of Cam’s dick swelling inside him. This was where he belonged, with Cam. He had no other home, no other place in the world.

Afterwards, he crawled from the bed and sat on the floor staring at Cam’s jeans while he slept. A white tip showed, peeking out of the pocket. 

 

Hearing Cam’s key in the lock, he put away his work and reached for his boots. “We going out or staying in?” he asked, hands around his Doc Martens.

“Brian…”

“We can stay in,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard Cam speak, as if the world hadn’t shifted on the pivot of one word, his name. “I could fix something.”

“Bri.”

He held out his hand. “No.” Blinked back the tears. “No, goddamnit. No.” How many times could he do this, listen to Cam confess some indiscretion? Cause he knew that’s what was coming. Despite everything. Despite the assurances and the promises.

Without coming any closer, Cam began, “Let me explain—”

“You promised me,” said Brian so quietly, in such a hurt voice that Cameron began to tremble. “You said it wouldn’t happen again. You said you loved me—”

“I do love you.”

“Then why? I should be enough!” He rose and stood with his back to Cam. Cameron could see his shoulders jerk as he cried.

His mind reeled. What was he going to do? He didn’t think he could stand being in the same room with Cam much longer and, at the same time, if Cam left right now he thought he would just lay down and die. He had to do something and the old ways of dealing with it just wouldn't work anymore. The situation called for something drastic.

“Brian. Baby…” But there were no words to explain why.

He wiped the tears from his face roughly. “I don’t care.”

“What?”

“I don’t care what you do.” He turned and faced Cameron. “I don’t give a fuck who you do. I don’t care. You go out there and do whatever the fuck you want. I just—” The implication of what he was saying unnerved him but he forced himself to continue. “Just come home to me.”

Cameron gaped at him in disbelief. “Is that what you want?”

“I want—” he started but he couldn’t finish because if he said it aloud he didn’t think there would be any room to retreat, to compromise, so he took another tact. “I need you in my life,” he confessed, “more than I need you to be faithful to me.”

“I am faithful to you. I love you. They don’t mean anything.”

Brian just stared at him. And then he said, “You’re right. They don’t mean anything.” His voice was flat, devoid of any emotion.

Sensing that the time wasn’t right for a complete reconciliation, Cam announced that he was going. “I’ll come by tomorrow.”

The door closed and Brian clamped his hands to the side of his head and wailed. A white-hot pain flared up in his belly and he cried out involuntarily, unable to keep his lips sealed. Falling to his knees, he crouched by the sofa and wept the way he never had all the times his father had beaten him, or all the times he had felt totally alone in the world, because even during those horrible moments he had remained true to himself, and now he had finally betrayed that truth and there was no one to blame for it but himself.

When tomorrow came and Cam didn’t show, Brian wasn’t too concerned. He didn’t know if he was really ready to start again. Each time he looked in the mirror he was startled by the face that looked back at him. He was ashamed of the compromises he had made and yet he would have made them all over again if he had to. Still, it was difficult to face. He began to avoid looking people in the eyes, afraid they’d see him for the coward he was. He lied to Mikey, made excuses, told him he and Cam were fine, they were both just busy.

A week passed with no word so he decided to go over to Cam’s place, again making the necessary sacrifice, putting aside his pride for love. Frank opened the door, clearly surprised to see him.

“He’s not here, Bri.”

Brian went inside. “I’ll wait.”

“No,” Frank began again, “I mean he’s gone.”

“What are you talking about?” Brian went upstairs, closely followed by Frank. He threw open the door to Cam’s room and stopped in his tracks. Cameron’s room had been stripped. “Where’s his stuff?”

“He took it with him.”

“What the fuck do you mean?”

“I told you he was gone. He’s gone, Bri,” Frank explained, as if to a child. “He moved out two days ago. I thought you knew.”

“Where?” The world shifted again and he felt dizzy. “Where did he go?”

“I don’t know,” shrugged Frank.

“He had to leave a number, something!”

Frank backed away. “Nothing, Bri. He said he’d call.”

Brian whipped past him, paused in the doorway. “He calls, you get his number and you call me. You fuckin call me, Frank.”

When the phone rang two days later, he was expecting to hear Frank’s voice on the other end. Instead, Cam spoke. “Hey, Bri.”

“Where are you?”

“I don’t want you to try and find me.”

Brian squeezed his eyes shut. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you.”

“This is hurting me,” he retorted through clenched teeth.

“Not as much as staying and fucking you over would.”

“I told you I didn’t care!”

Cam took a deep breath. “And we both know that’s bullshit. And unfair.”

Sensing that the conversation was ending, Brian grasped at anything to keep Cam on the line. “We should talk. Face-to-face.”

“There’s nothing left to say, Bri.”

“A year and a half together and this is all that’s left? A five minute conversation on the telephone?”

“I have to go.”

“Wait! Cam—”

“Good-bye, Brian.”

“Wait!” The line went dead. He sat holding the phone in his hands until it began to complain. Dropping the receiver into the cradle, he remained seated where he was. He didn’t trust his legs to carry him across the room. His hands shook but he didn’t cry. He didn’t think he had any tears left. So he sat there, trembling, until he felt strong enough to get up and go to bed. Tomorrow was a work day. 

 

He was supposed to have dinner with Michael at his place. Even though he felt like shit he showed up at the appointed hour with a case of beer.

“Where’s Cam?” Mikey asked getting the opener.

Brian set the bottles on the table. “He’s gone.” Buying time, he pulled off his jacket and plopped down on the sofa, hoping Mikey hadn’t heard.

“Gone? What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means he moved out of the house and quit his job,” he said and the tears that he had kept at bay for three days spilled over his cheeks.

Michael sat next to him and took him in his arms. “Jesus Christ. Brian… Brian, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what I did, but I fucked it up, Mikey. I always fuck it up. I never do anything right.”

Michael shook him gently. “It wasn’t you, Brian, it was him. That fucker—”

Brian raised his head. “I feel like such a fuckin moron. I was willing to sacrifice everything and he wouldn’t give up anything for me.”

“Maybe he wasn’t the right one.”

“Then there’s never going to be a right one, Mikey.” Brian covered his face briefly. “Because he was everything I ever wanted.”

Michael thumbed away a trail of tears. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m never falling in love again,” vowed Brian.

Having heard Brian make impossible pronouncements before, Michael shrugged this one off as well. “Yes, you will.”

But Brian’s eyes hardened, as did his mouth. “There’s no such thing as love. It’s just lust dressed up in pretty clothes. And there’s no beauty. No goodness. No fuckin light. Just this ache inside where he used to be,” he said and he curled up on the sofa, his head in Michael’s lap, and cried for what he hoped would be the last time. 

Only it wasn’t. For the first few weeks after Cameron left Brian would wake up in the middle of the night with Cam on this mind and cry himself back to sleep. At work he’d get up from his desk and race to the Men’s Room, secluding himself in a stall just seconds before the tears started to flow. He hated the control his emotions exerted over his life and he wanted nothing more than to just stop feeling anything—or that Cameron would change his mind and come back. Only Brian knew that he wouldn’t. He also knew that he was better off without Cam. Only his heart wouldn’t listen.

Then one evening he came home from work and changed into a pair of black jeans and a white, lycra shirt, put on his ass-kickers, and headed for the clubs. He lost himself in the seething mass of half-naked bodies. Danced the way he used to with Cam. And when he felt a hand brush his hip inquiringly, he didn’t push it away. Instead, he took hold of the wrist and led its owner outside to where he was parked.

They fucked in the bed where he and Cam had made love. And as he plowed into the trick, he didn’t feel any better, he didn’t feel vindicated, he didn’t feel anything at all, which was exactly what he wanted. 

 

Years passed and he changed jobs, got promoted, and was well on his way to a senior management position, maybe division head, by the time he was thirty-one, thirty-two. Just eight or nine more years. He hardly ever thought of Cameron, not even when he glanced at the bracelet he still wore around his wrist. There had been too many tricks, too many drug-induced hazes for him to care anymore. Or so he thought.

He was at lunch, alone, having met a client who had to leave abruptly in the middle. Since his client had paid for lunch, he decided to stay, finish his meal, and take a breather. The restaurant was fairly empty, so he was able to hear the conversation at a nearby table.

“So Cameron wants to have a commitment ceremony,” one man was saying to the other. “I told him, ‘Cam, that is so 1950’s,’ but I guess he never had a coming out party so here’s his chance to shine. You know how guys in Marketing are. Presentation is everything.”

From the moment he had heard ‘Cameron’ Brian had listened more attentively to the conversation. When the man mentioned marketing he found himself standing next to their table. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I heard you say you were having a commitment ceremony. And that your partner’s name was Cameron and he was in marketing.” Before they could tell him to fuck off, he explained, “I used to know someone named Cameron who was in marketing. I thought it might be the same person.”

The speaker asked, “What was his last name?”

Pausing, unsure if he really wanted to know now, Brian answered, “McKenna. Cameron McKenna.” He remembered them laughing about the similarity between their names. McKenna and Kinney.

“That’s him, all right.” The man smiled at his companion. “How do you know Cam?”

“We were in school together. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. Congratulations.” He walked away quickly.

Behind him, Cameron’s partner remarked, “What a babe. I wonder how well Cam knew him.”

“I think I saw a bracelet on his arm, like the one Cam used to wear.”

“Hmm. Maybe they were in the same fraternity,” the lover suggested. 

Cynthia met Brian at the door of his office. “Ryder wants to see you. Fifteen minutes.”

Passing by her, he growled, “Fuck Ryder.”

Unperturbed by his outburst, she remarked, “So it’s going to be one of those ‘Fuck the world’ afternoons, huh?” She closed his door.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to throw something. At the very least he wanted to take off the bracelet he wore. The one Cameron had tied around his wrist. Taking out a pair of scissors, he inserted one of the blades beneath the strap. Although it was awkward using his left hand, he could very easily cut the band in two. Instead he sat there, the cool metal pressed against his skin, unable to complete the motion. He heard the lock click a moment before Cynthia stuck her head in the doorway. “Ryder’s waiting.”

Putting away the scissors, he gathered his notes from the aborted luncheon meeting and made his way to his boss’ office. 

 

He studied the bracelet on his wrist. Underneath the band, the skin was pale. He hardly ever took it off. If someone were to ask him why, he wouldn’t have been able to say. Maybe that he had grown used to having it on, that he would have felt naked without it. And that would have been part of the truth. But probably the biggest reason was so that he never forgot what it had felt like. To be in love. To have his heart broken. Whenever he was tempted to let down his guard, to put his trust in someone who said they loved him (besides Mikey and Lindz), he only had to look down at his wrist to remind himself that there was no such thing as love. That it was just a lie people told each other to keep from being alone.

The phone rang and he sauntered over and answered it. “Yeah.”

“You okay?”

“Why?” Mikey.

“You were really quiet today.”

“I’m surprised you even noticed, you were going on and on about how wonderful your step-kid was.” And then he regretted saying it cause he knew Mikey would feel worse than he should. “Look, it’s okay. It’s just this shit with my old man.”

“You want me to do anything?”

“What can you do?” he asked. He could see Mikey shrugging.

“Bring you some of my mom’s meatloaf?”

He laughed. “So I can die of a heart attack?” Michael laughed too. That was better. No need for both of them to be down. Only, he couldn’t not tell Mikey about the strange mood he was in. “I was thinking about Cameron.”

Silence on the other end. Then, “Why?”

“I don’t know.” And he didn’t. Except that he felt vulnerable and helpless in the face of his old man’s dying and Cameron had made him feel vulnerable and helpless.

“You want me to come over?”

For a moment he was tempted to take him up on the offer and then he changed his mind. “Look after the doc.”

“Fuck you. See if I care about you anymore.”

With a small smile he said, “Pick you up around eight?”

“Yeah.”

He severed the connection. Went around and cut off all the lights except for one. As he reached for the last switch, his eyes fell upon the bracelet once more. He wrapped his left hand around his wrist and stretched open his right hand. There, in the middle of his palm, was the spot Cameron had kissed.

_“I love you.”_

_Brian leaned over him and kissed him lightly on the lips. “How much?”_

_Pretending to think, Cam said, “More than the ocean.”_

_“Fucker.” Another kiss. “Not good enough. How much?”_

_“More than ice cream.”_

_Another kiss. “Better. But still… not good enough. How much?”_

_Cam held Brian’s head still and kissed him deeply. “More than my life.” Brian touched Cam’s lips with his fingertips. “Liar.”_

Just as he was headed to bed, the buzzer for the downstairs door sounded. Justin. It couldn’t be anyone else. Pressing the intercom button, he released the lock. “Come on up,” he said without checking. Even if it wasn’t Justin, it’d be somebody and, sometimes—tonight—some body was all he wanted. All he needed.


	13. What I Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Justin's 18th birthday and Brian gives him the best present of all: himself!

Taking the last three steps at a run, Justin whipped around the corner and grabbed the phone from the hook. “Hello?”

“Justin.”

On the verge of speaking, Justin changed his mind and waited to hear what Brian would say next.

“I’m coming to pick you up in an hour. Be ready.”

Confused Justin asked, “Why?” Although he couldn’t see him, Justin knew Brian was probably either scowling in dismay or raising an eyebrow in amusement.

“The raincheck on your birthday present.”

With all that had happened since Brian had promised to take him on a ‘date’ for his birthday, the teen had been sure that Brian had forgotten or would be too busy. “It’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“Yes. I do.” Pause. “I should be able to keep at least one promise.”

So this wasn’t just about Justin’s birthday date, it was about Lindsay yelling at Brian, “Don’t tell me you’ll be there for him and then you’re not!” It was about his father and all of the promises he had made, promises he had had no intention of keeping. And, lastly, it was about Brian finding a way to be at peace with himself. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. And wear something nice. No jeans and no t-shirts.”

Justin grimaced and his eyes widened. “I have to wear a suit?”

“Did your mother pick your suits out for you?”

Hating to admit it, Justin concurred. “Yeah.”

“Then, no. That’d be cruel and unusual punishment. For me. Just wear a pair of slacks and a sweater. One hour.”

“’kay.” As usual, Brian didn’t say good-bye, just hung up. Gradually Justin was getting used to that. Not that Brian called him very much. Hardly ever, in fact. But he was just as bad in person. Rushing back upstairs, Justin racked his brains over what to wear. He knew that if the ad-exec and self-professed clothes horse didn’t approve of his outfit, Brian would send him back upstairs to change while he fumed in the jeep.  
A palmful of styling gel applied seemingly haphazardly, Brian raked and arranged his hair with his fingers until he gave the impression that he had just rolled out of bed. He found it useful in his line of work to radiate an air of carnal sensuousness. A client who was thinking about sex was a client in the mood to be sold something. And if the client was thinking about having sex with Brian and was willing to buy his ideas, so much the better.

He stood back and surveyed his handiwork. The cream-colored cashmere and silk-blend sweater paired with close-fitting chocolate trousers emphasized his lean torso and slender hips to perfection. Justin would have a difficult time keeping his hands off of him. Course, he always did, no matter what Brian was wearing or not wearing at the time. Licking his lips, he left the bathroom, grabbed his tan overcoat from the closet, keys and wallet from the counter, and exited the loft with one last backwards glance at his preparations. Perfect.

Justin fidgeted on the stoop, seeing the jeep in every set of head lights that came up the street. He would have waited inside but he didn’t want Brian to have to idle in the jeep for even a second—Brian hated waiting. Besides, Debbie and Vic had been driving him crazy, teasing him about his plans for the evening. They found it incredibly amusing that their Sunshine was going out on a real date, even if it was with Brian. They had tormented him so much that he had finally given up and come outside to freeze his nuts off. Counting grievances against the old folks, Justin didn’t see Brian until the jeep came to a screeching halt. He ran down the walkway and got in.

Seemingly lazily, Brian looked him over, sharp eyes taking in every detail. Blue-grey Calvin Klein sweater, black trousers, Doc Martens. He smiled to let Justin know he approved and pulled off from the curb like a jet fighter leaving an aircraft carrier.  
From over the top of the menu Justin said, “Everyone’s looking at us.”

Brian glanced around without really seeing anyone—or seeing everyone and discounting them all— then turned his attention back to the listed dinner entrees. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Why do you think they’re staring?”

Without looking up Brian replied, “We’re the best-looking and best-dressed couple in the place.”

That Brian could say things like that and mean it constantly amazed Justin. Other people only allowed themselves to think the things that Brian routinely said without hesitation or self-censorship. Which was why it had shocked him to find out that Brian hadn’t told his parents he was gay because he had been afraid of their disapproval and not because they didn’t have anything to do with his life, which was what he had told Justin. The teen guessed that there were a lot of things about Brian that he didn’t know and the more he found out about him, the less he felt he knew him. His picture of Brian kept shifting and he could never at any point know with any degree of certainty just what Brian would do in a given situation. Like tonight. Their first real date. Peering over the edge of the menu, Justin studied Brian’s lowered head. Could feel the spikes of hair beneath his fingers. Although they were stiff, they were also surprisingly soft. Sometimes when they were making love he found himself grabbing Brian’s hair for purchase, to keep himself grounded. Sensing Justin’s scrutiny, Brian looked up and cocked his head waiting for Justin to explain.

“Thanks for tonight.”

Brian grinned. “Thank me later.”

The waiter appeared at Brian’s side. “May I get you something from the bar?”

Justin felt the tips of his ears grow warm. If Brian ordered a drink and he did too and got carded and they called him on his fake ID…

“I’ll have a virgin daiquiri.”

Eyes grown wide, Justin stared across the table at his dinner companion fully expecting Brian to have been replaced by a badly-dressed body snatcher.

“And you, sir?” he asked, his tone implying that he considered Justin to be anything but a ‘sir.’

Finding his voice, Justin croaked, “I’ll have a virgin margarita.”

The waiter smirked. “Two virgins,” and went to put in their order.

Brian eased back in his chair and closed his menu. “That guy’s tip is gonna be smaller than his dick.”

“You could have ordered a real drink,” said Justin.

“I want to remember tonight.”

“You mean you don’t remember every moment we’ve ever spent together?”

Deftly avoiding that trap, Brian replied, “Tonight’s special. After all,” he confessed, “this is only the second date I’ve ever been on.”

“What? Tonight?” asked the waiter who had returned with their drinks.

Brian’s eyes hardened. “Do I know you?” Justin tensed, hearing the tightness in Brian’s voice.

The waiter must have sensed the precariousness of his position as well. “I’m sorry. It was just a joke.”

“I didn’t realize it was Amateur Night.” Brian lifted his menu and handed it to the waiter without looking at him. “Venison.”

All business now, the waiter jotted down his order. “Yes, sir.” To Justin, “And you, sir?”

He glanced down at the menu in a panic. He had studied it for ten minutes and still hadn’t made up his mind.

“If you’re not ready, we can order an appetizer and he can come back later.”

Justin spotted a dish with relief. “Rabbit. I’ll have the rabbit.”

The waiter gathered his menu. “Will there be anything else?”

Brian reached for his drink, the waiter already forgotten so Justin shook his head, releasing the guy. As the waiter scurried away, Justin couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. Having been exposed to more than one of Brian’s cool breezes, he figured the waiter got off lucky.

“To you,” said Brian lifting his drink.

Justin raised his glass. “To me.” A clink and they drank, eyes connecting over the rims of their drinks. “So,” he began, “tell me about your first date.”

Eyes suddenly sparkling, Brian revealed the source of his amusement. “I ended up fucking the waiter. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

On cue the waiter appeared with a basket of flatbreads. Left.

Tongue in cheek, Brian held up two fingers about two inches apart. Justin laughed and nearly spilled his drink. “Maybe they got the order wrong,” Brian joked. He held out his hand, a languid movement that caught and held the eye. “Let me taste.” Justin passed the glass to him, watched as Brian lifted it to his mouth and took a sip. Slowly licked his lips clean of any liquid. A man at the next table over watched Brian’s tongue make the circuit with more than an idle interest. Of course, Justin didn’t notice, his eyes were glued to the performance which Brian staged as if they were alone in his loft. Justin’s trousers began to tighten in the crotch. He shifted in his seat and gulped down about half a goblet of water.

The entire meal became an exercise in eroticism with most of the other diners looking on longingly as the two men whet one another’s appetite with subtle and not-so-subtle displays of desire and need. At one point during the main course Brian reached over and wiped a drop of pomegranate sauce from Justin’s lower lip—where it hung poised to fall onto his sweater—and then sucked the sauce from his fingertip. At which point a woman at a nearby table excused herself and, as she passed by them on her way to the Ladies’ Room, whispered, “Fucking hot.”

Justin smiled, his lip smeared red. Brian’s eyelids lowered over his smoldering, hazel eyes.

As Justin finished the final bit of rabbit left on his plate, Brian signaled their waiter. “The check.”  
In the jeep Justin reached over and unzipped Brian’s trousers, reached in and stroked his cock. Brian sighed and gripped the wheel tighter as Justin maintained a steady rhythm. Finally he clamped his hand over Justin’s and held it still while his heart continued to race.

The elevator shook as they wrestled one another, embroiled in hard, deep kissing, mouths open and mashed against one another, tongues thrusting. The skin near Justin’s mouth was wet with Brian’s saliva.

Brian turned the key in the lock and then placed his hands over Justin’s eyes. “Don’t peek. Open the door.” They stepped over the threshold, Brian pressed up against Justin out of necessity. “Okay.” He removed his hands.

It was not to be believed. There on the dining table was a vase of Stargazer Lilies,  
… a white-frosted cake sprinkled with purple candied hydrangea,  
…and a decanter of deep burgundy wine.  
And through the open doorway of Brian’s bedroom, Justin could see clear votives lining the countertop that ran along the perimeter of the room. 

But best of all, on an easel behind the dining table, was a drawing. Of him and Brian. Him lying asleep in Brian’s arms.

“How?”

“One of the artists from the show at the Center. It’s not as good as yours but—” Justin hugged him hard, nearly bowling him over. Kissing him below the ear, Brian released him. “Go check it out. See if you got my money’s worth.” While Justin examined the portrait Brian closed the door and put on some music. The piece had a definite pumping beat but the tempo was just perfect for slow dancing. Crossing to where Justin stood admiring their likeness, Brian wrapped his arms around him. “Wanna dance?”

Staring out about six inches apart, they continued to move closer and closer together until their bellies and groins were grinding together in time to the music. Brian teased them, rubbing his face on Justin’s neck and face, his purring lips brushing over his skin, promising everything, then flitting away before any could be kept. Finally, in frustration, Justin grabbed the back of Brian’s head and drew him down for a serious kiss that left them hard and breathless. Brian cupped Justin’s crotch and gently squeezed his growing erection.

“Ah!” exclaimed Justin, falling back against the counter. Like a whirlwind, Brian had torn open his trousers and dragged them down his hips, his thighs. Justin stepped out of them and his underwear and kicked off his shoes before Brian pushed him back, lifted his sweater, and began planting kisses on the smooth skin of his belly, his lips trailing down into the blond thatch of hair from which sprang his cock. Instead of taking it into his mouth, Brian licked the tip slowly, allowing his tongue to cup and caress the broad head while Justin’s heart rate increased as did his involuntary cries of pleasure. Brian closed his lips about the tip and gave it a kiss. Then another. Hummed around it sending shivers up Justin’s spine. Justin groaned in the back of his throat then voiced a very contented, “Mmm,” when Brian drew him inside and began to make his way up his shaft, tracing veins from root to tip. His cock stiffened under Brian’s manipulations, his dick sending pulses to all regions of his body, causing his toes to curl, his buttocks to tense, and his nipples to tingle. As Brian sucked him off, he rubbed between Justin’s thighs, fondling his full sac, stroking the strip of flesh behind his balls, and probing between his cheeks. He licked and then used the tip of his finger to ply the folds of Justin’s asshole. As Justin grew more and more aroused, his asshole began to spasm. After each contraction came a period of relaxation and it was during these moments that Brian pressed forward, easing his finger just inside the rim of the teen’s warm hole. Justin raised his leg and let it fall over Brian’s shoulder, opening himself even wider to his partner’s erotic activities. At last Brian let him slip free. He looked down at his shiny cock, erect, hungry for more attention. He loved the way his dick looked, slick with Brian’s spit. Hotter than he had ever been before, he stripped off his sweater and let it fall onto the pile at his feet.

Brian, having shed his own constricting clothing, drew Justin to his chest and gently kneaded his plump buttocks as they kissed. “It’s your birthday. Tell me what you want.”

Cupping his palms over the mounds of Brian’s ass, Justin murmured against his mouth, “I want… I want…” How could he even say it? And yet it was what he wanted more than anything at that moment.

Amused, Brian smiled. “You want what?”

Instead of answering verbally, Justin squeezed Brian’s ass and used his fingers to probe between his cheeks.

With a raised eyebrow, Brian asked, “Are you sure you can handle it?” Justin nodded, unable to speak. His cock throbbed against Brian’s hip and he shifted, leaving a wet trail on his lover’s skin. Before he could break contact completely though, Brian took hold of his shaft and ran his thumb over the moist tip. A moan escaped his lips and he pressed his face into Brian’s shoulder. “I’m very demanding.” Smiling, he tugged on Justin’s erection. “Come on.” Still holding onto his cock, Brian lead Justin to the bedroom.

Brian laid back on the bed and opened his legs, then drew his knees up. As Justin watched, mesmerized by the play of muscles in his thighs, calves, biceps, and forearms, he raised his legs, catching each one behind the knee, exposing his buttocks and the tight hole nested between his cheeks. Crawling between his legs, Justin reached for a condom but Brian stopped him with a look. “If you want to stick it, you gotta lick it first.”

As if he had been only waiting for permission, the boy dropped to his belly with his face pressed up against Brian’s ass. With no other preamble he began to lick around Brian’s hole, his tongue circling the rosy orifice, each circuit bringing him closer and closer to the epicenter. When his tongue finally made contact dead on, Brian shuddered. Justin ravished his ass, feeding on him with a hunger that seemed endless. At each opportunity the teen pressed forward, burying his tongue deeper inside until it felt as if he had Brian’s ass completely inside his mouth. Releasing one leg, Brian reached down and lightly gripped Justin’s head as he worked his ass against his tongue and lips, all the while taking deep draughts of air.

Suddenly withdrawing his tongue, Justin turned to Brian’s balls, lapping his sac with enthusiasm before moving onto his cock. Supporting himself on his hands, he lowered his head and closed his mouth around the proffered organ which sprouted from Brian’s fist. He twisted his head as he sucked on his lover’s cock and moved up and down the shaft in an easy glide. Finally, he gave him a last lick and sat up. His cock was so hard he was afraid to breath. Brian reached over and opened the condom, unrolled it over Justin’s cock. “Hold out your hand.” When Justin complied, he squeezed lube onto his fingers. Needing no other instructions, Justin took one of Brian’s legs in his hands and held it up and open. Brian’s head rolled back on the pillow as Justin’s fingers sank into his hole. And then his dick slipped inside.

The thrill of being inside Brian nearly drove Justin over the edge. But Brian held him still until his pulse had slowed a little and he could see straight again. “Slowly,” Brian cautioned. “I want a long, hard ride.” His hands slid down over Justin’s ass. “Now, come all the way in.” Justin pressed forward until he was buried to the hilt. He couldn’t believe how good it felt to be inside of Brian. Lowering his head, he gave him a kiss and felt Brian’s muscles grip him. He moaned. Brian flicked his tongue over Justin’s open lips while his ass continued to massage his cock. Saliva dripped from Justin’s mouth onto Brian’s face. Placing his hands on either side of Justin’s head, Brian kissed him hard, then whispered, “Now.”

Slowly, at first, Justin began to move, sliding in and out of him with a minimum of hesitation, his buttocks tensing as he dipped down to drive his cock deep into Brian’s ass. As they fucked, Justin could feel Brian’s hips rising to meet his thrusts, could feel Brian’s asshole opening wider, as if he couldn’t get enough of the teen’s cock, as if he wanted all of it, balls and all. Shifting, Justin got on his knees and held Brian’s legs open, pounding his ass with abandon, hitting Brian’s prostate with each stroke, wanting it to go on forever but feeling that tingling at the base of his spine which told him that he was coming. Brian’s mouth opened and he groaned and that sent Justin over the edge. Hips moving at a blur, he made that final push and cried out shooting his load. He jerked against Brian a few more times then slumped over him. When he was able to breath again and was capable of rational thought, he pulled out and laid next to Brian, his hand stroking his nipple. “You didn’t come.”

Brian smiled softly. “I will. You’re not finished yet. Look in the nightstand.” Justin turned over and opened the drawer, withdrew a ten-inch, flexible, synthetic dildo. “I told you I like a long, hard ride.”

Kneeling on the bed, Justin squatting behind him, Brian whispered, “Slide it in.” His lips still stretched from the fucking Justin had given him, Brian’s ass easily accommodated the dildo, although it had a few inches on Justin both in girth and length. Head thrown back, he raised and lowered his hips, drawing his ass along the length of the dildo while Justin held it steady. “Work it in me,” he commanded, and Justin obeyed, using one hand to thrust while the other held onto Brian’s hip. Gripping the plastic cock with his ass, Brian jerked his hips, the muscles in his legs taut, his cock bouncing in front of him, a line of precum flung across his thigh like a shiny streamer. He leaned forward and instructed Justin to withdraw the dildo and then shove it back into him. Justin complied, forcing a cry from Brian as the dildo filled the suddenly emptied space in his ass. “Again.” At Brian’s insistence, Justin repeated the action. This time Brian gave a long, low groan and jerked. His cock throbbed and frothed. Justin, holding the dildo tight up against him, reached around and cupped his dick. Another contraction and Justin’s palm was wet with cum. He stroked Brian’s dick, spreading cum along the shaft, while Brian continued to convulse.  
He awoke with Justin’s arms around his waist, his head between his shoulder blades. Smiling, Brian turned over. Justin, disturbed by the movement, grumbled and opened his eyes. “Hey.”

Justin returned his smile. “Hey.”

Brian looked over Justin’s shoulder at the clock. “It’s still your belated birthday. What else do you want?”

Eyes sparkling, Justin replied, “Cake.”

“Okay. But first,” and at that Brian reached over him and opened the top drawer of the nightstand, taking out a small, exquisitely wrapped present. “Here. Happy Birthday.”

Justin straddled Brian and took the box. “But you got me the sketch…”

Lips curled, Brian said, “I can afford it. Open it.”

The grey wrapping appeared to be cloth. “Is this silk?”

“Yeah.”

Confused, Justin asked, “Why would you wrap a present in silk?”

Brian laughed. “Presentation is everything. That’s the first thing you learn in advertising. The other is sometimes getting to something is more important than the thing itself. That’s what advertising is all about. Making you want something so badly it hurts. No matter what it is.”

Carefully, Justin undid the twisted paper bow and removed the silk wrapping. He stopped before opening the small, ebony wood box.

“Go on.”

He opened the box. Inside was a gold, cowry shell pendant on a slender chain. Unable to believe his eyes, he sat staring at it.

Brian, never one to release control of a situation, removed the necklace and opened the clasp. Placed it around Justin’s neck, and fastened it. “There.” He stroked Justin’s cheek with his right hand. “Perfect.”

Justin laid his fingers upon Brian’s wrist, the cowry shell bracelet pressing against his palm. “This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

“You only turn eighteen once.” They kissed. “Now, we have cake.”  
“Hold still.” Brian gripped the base of Justin’s cock and smiled in appreciation of his creation. The teen’s cock was completely erect, covered with white frosting, and topped with one of the candied hydrangea from the cake. Justin took a deep breath as Brian slowly extended his tongue. With a flick, he had the candy flower in his mouth. Gone in a few bites. Then he began licking the frosting from Justin’s dick in long, leisurely motions. By the time Brian was done, Justin’s cock had begun to leak and ache. Releasing him, Brian reached for the tube of violet decorating gel he had used to write Justin’s name on his cake. On his hands and knees, with his back to Justin, Brian placed the tip of the tube at the top of his ass and squeezed. Violet gel ran down between his cheeks. Tossing the tube away, Brian finger-painted his skin from his hole to his balls. His buttocks were streaked purple as well. And then he waited. It didn’t take but a moment for Justin to be there, face buried in his ass, licking him clean and eating out his hole. And after he had eaten his fill, he unrolled a condom over his cock and fucked Brian to his—and Brian’s—content. Withdrawing, he removed the condom and came over Brian’s buttocks, mixing cum with gel and frosting. Then, before Brian could blow, he thrust two fingers up his sticky hole and urged him on, twisting, swirling his fingers around until Brian shouted and dropped his load.

Kissing the back of Brian's neck, Justin asked, "So when's your birthday?"  
Having showered, they returned to the disheveled bed and crawled under the covers, pleasurably exhausted. Laying on his back, Justin’s head against his chest, Brian smiled as the teen fingered the cowry shell pendant, and for the moment, he felt at peace.


	14. First Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Justin take a small step towards becoming a couple. Takes place a few days after Justin confronts Chris Hobbs outside of Woody's.

Brian fumbled for the phone and tried to ignore his growing arousal. The guy bobbing at his groin was good. "What?"

"Can I come over?"

Justin. For a moment, as the guy's tongue slithered up the head of his cock and flicked at the slit, he was tempted to hang up without saying anything. And then Justin said, "Please." Pause. "You're with someone, aren't you?"

And for some reason he lied. "No. Come on." He hung up. Tenderly disengaged his bed partner from his cock. "You have to go. My little brother's coming over." He got up and retrieved his jeans from the floor.

The trick looked around as he put on his clothes. "You must not be close. You and your family. No pictures."

Brian sneered, "We're not very photogenic."

"Maybe I can hang around until he leaves?" he suggested.

"He usually stays all night. Especially after he's gone eight rounds with the old man." He gave him a little nudge to get him started. "We'll reschedule."

Although he had hoped that the guy would be gone by the time Justin arrived, the teen must have called from around the corner, because he was jogging up the stairs just as the trick was waiting for the elevator. Fucking kids. The trick took one look at Justin and smiled. "You should be careful. I saw you two at Babylon the other night. Incest is against the law in Pennsylvania." With that, he boarded the elevator.

Shoving Justin ahead of him, Brian growled, "Get in there." Closed the door behind him. "You want anything?"

"Who was that?" Justin asked, sitting on the arm of the sofa.

"Census taker," Brian replied grabbing a beer from the fridge.

Justin cocked an eyebrow. "They did the census last year."

"He's getting an early start on the next one," said Brian, hunting for the bottle cap opener on the counter.

"So what'd he want to know? Your dick size?"

Ignoring the question, Brian restated his earlier inquiry, "Do you want anything?" He opened his beer and took a swig.

Justin sauntered over and took the bottle from Brian. Drank a mouthful. Placed the bottle on the counter and took hold of the zipper on Brian's jeans. "I could have told him, down to a sixteenth of an inch," he said, slowly drawing the zipper down.

Just as the zipper reached the end of its track, Brian pulled away. Undid the button on his fly, dropped his jeans, and stepped out of them. He picked up his beer and sat naked in one of the dining chairs. "How was school?"

Deciding that he would play along with the game, Justin walked around behind Brian and laid his hands on his bare shoulders. "You've never asked me about school before." He slid his hands down over Brian's chest.

Removing one of Justin's hands, Brian placed the beer bottle in it. "It's called showing an interest in another person's life. People do that, they tell me."

"Yeah, people who are friends… or lovers… or boyfriends…" said Justin listing the things that Brian had once said they weren't. "Which are we?" he asked taking the bottle over to the counter and again setting it down. He returned to the table and knelt at Brian's feet.

Brian tried to ignore the teen's fingers as they inched up his torso. "I think we should reject labels. Think outside the box. So?" He caught Justin's hand just as it was about to tweak his nipple. "How was school?"

He leaned over and kissed Brian's stomach. "Well," he said, his lips moving against his skin, "I haven't lost any body parts, so I guess it went okay."

Despite his resolve, his cock stirred. "And that's supposed to be funny?"

Justin circled Brian's navel with his tongue. "Yeah, and this is supposed to be provocative and sexy as hell."

Brian's stomach muscles fluttered as Justin made his way back down his belly, leaving a wet trail on his skin. Taking a shallow breath, he said, "You and Daphne, watch out for each other. If anything happens to you, Deb and your mom are gonna come over here and kick my ass."

By now Justin had spread Brian's legs open and was kissing the inner plane of his thigh. "It's not your fault."

"It's always my fault."

He kissed the side of Brian's knee. "That the only reason?"

Attempting to distract himself from the pulses of pleasure radiating from the spots Justin had kissed, Brian replied in a light voice, "No. Daphne's mom would probably join 'em."

Justin licked a path from Brian's knee to the point where his thigh met his groin. "She has a black belt in tae kwon do."

Finally, Brian just reached down and held Justin's head still. "I'm serious. This Hobbs kid is a fucking psychopath." He saw again Chris Hobbs threatening Justin outside of Woody's; he had wanted to grab him and beat the shit out of him, but even more he had wanted to gather Justin in his arms and keep him safe. "Gay or straight, it doesn't matter: he's homophobic and he's trouble. So be careful." He leaned over and playfully kissed Justin upon the lips. "I don't want anything to happen to you," he admitted with a look of chagrin on his face.

Smiling broadly, Justin asked, "That didn't hurt too much, now did it?"

Brian sat back in the chair. "I'm wounded."

"Show me where, and I'll kiss it and make it all better." But he took Brian's hand and laced his fingers with his.

Brian could tell that Justin hadn't really heard his warning, had only paid attention to the fact that he cared. As proud as he had been of Justin for standing up for himself, he had also been afraid. For all that the teen had been through, he still had no idea how ugly the world could be, having been cushioned from most of that ugliness by more experienced persons: him, and Deb, and the guys. Protected and comforted by the fact that they had all made it with their persons and personalities intact, able to joke about the hard times. And he, Brian, was the worse offender of all with that story he had told at Woody's. Maybe it was time to give up the whole truth and nothing but. "Remember me telling you about that football jock in high school?"

"The one whose fingers you broke."

"Yeah, well, the next day his Cro Magnon friends ambushed me outside of school," he paused for effect, "and beat the shit out of me. I couldn't piss without seeing stars for a week. Luckily, once was enough for them. Some people wouldn't have stopped. They would have come back week after week and pushed and pushed until somebody really got hurt. Or worse. Luck is a bitch. She just happened to be on my side that time. It won't always be like that." He squeezed Justin's hand when he felt the boy tremble. "So be careful."

Justin kissed the back of Brian's knuckles. "I will." As he made his promise he could see Chris Hobbs pushing him against the wall in school and vowing to kill Justin if he ever mentioned the episode in detention; could see Chris in the locker room, with blood on his shirt where Justin had spit on him, threatening to kill him. And he thought that maybe Brian was right: he had made a real enemy out of someone who might not know how to stop, who might not be able to stop himself.

"After all," continued Brian, "genius of your caliber shouldn't be wasted." _All over the sidewalk_ , he said to himself, and quickly banished the vision of Justin lying unconscious somewhere, bleeding to death.

Pushing Chris Hobbs from his mind, Justin smiled thinking about his SATs again. "Yes!" Then in a singsong, "Fifteen hun-dred. Fifteen hun-dred." Grinned. "What did you get on your SATs?" he asked.

"I don't remember."

"You lie." Justin got a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "You know, you never congratulated me."

Brian raised an eyebrow. "I didn't?"

He shook his head. "Nope."

Tugging on Justin's hand, Brian drew him upon his lap. "How thoughtless." He worked at removing Justin's clothes as they kissed, succeeded in getting his shirt off and his pants open before Justin took matters in his own hands and finished stripping. Instead of immediately initiating foreplay, Brian just looked at Justin, his eyes traveling the length and breadth of his body.

Justin fidgeted; he should have been used to Brian's intense stares but he could never relax when the man decided to study him. "What is it?"

"You," replied Brian in a rough whisper. "You're beautiful," he said as if the fact of it had just become apparent, as if he had never really seen Justin before, and perhaps he hadn't. Even now, his features flickered, eluded capture. At that moment, although he was standing right in front of Brian, solid against his knee, he seemed insubstantial. Already forces were conspiring to part them: Chris Hobbs, college. The enormity of his thoughts frightened him and he felt a little dizzy. Partially to ground himself and partly to reassure himself that Justin was really there, he cupped Justin's face in his hands and tried to think of nothing else, but thoughts came to him, unwanted. _What if something happens to him? What if he goes away?_ He tried to imagine his life without him, tried to recall the way it used to be. It was as if he was looking at the past through a fog, everything appeared hazy and out of focus. Suddenly afraid, he laid his face against Justin's belly and simply held him.

As if he guessed some of what Brian was feeling, Justin stroked his hair and said nothing. Finally, Brian drew back and smiled and Justin was again struck by **his** beauty, like a physical presence, both a part of and separate from the man. You could isolate the lips, the eyes, the arched brows, the strong jaw and examine them individually, and they could be the features of any man, and yet, they seemed indelibly a part of Brian, and if any one feature were to be removed, he would no longer be himself.

Sensing that tonight was one of those nights when Brian needed him to take the reins, Justin held out his hand and waited until he accepted it. He pulled him from the chair and into an embrace. Justin wrapped his arms around Brian's slender waist, hands resting on the slightly broader back, and they kissed, Justin taking pleasure in the feel of Brian's flexing muscles. He ran his hand up Brian's spine and over his shoulders. "You're tense," he said coming up for air. "I think you need a massage."

Brian stretched out on the bed face down and gave over to Justin's expert manipulations. He hadn't lied when he told Brian he was a fantastic masseuse. As Justin leaned over him, astride his hips, and plied his flesh with strong yet gentle fingers, Brian was able to relax, to release some of the tension that had accumulated inside him from the moment Justin had announced his plans to possibly go out-of-state to school. He still didn't know how he felt about that, if he had any right to feel anything. After all, he had made it abundantly clear on numerous occasions that he and Justin had no relationship, that they fucked because they both enjoyed it, because they wanted each other sexually and for no other reason. So why did he feel as if something precious was slipping away from him? He had an overabundance of sexual partners, men whose enthusiasm for and expertise in carnal matters nearly matched his own. To say that these encounters failed to satisfy him sexually would have been a lie, but they did fail to fulfill him. Only, what **did** he want?

Justin paused in stroking his calves. "Turn over." Brian complied and Justin began on his legs again. But he noticed a difference in Brian's demeanor, in the feel of his body. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Brian rolled over onto his side.

Justin didn't buy it. He inched over next to Brian and began to rub his biceps. "Nothing? Are you sure?"

"I guess you were right about caffeine affecting my sexual performance."

"Tell me," insisted Justin, crawling on top of Brian and looking down into his beautiful, hazel eyes.

"Not now." He rubbed the space between his brows.

"Well, if we're not gonna fuck, and we're not gonna talk, what's left?" 

Justin was surprised that Brian actually had food in his cupboards, much less an entire box of microwave popcorn-low salt, no butter-but still popcorn. Barely. They curled up on the sofa, one to each end, and split a bowl-Justin getting the lion's share-while watching The Crow.

"He really was beautiful," commented Justin, his eyes lingering on Brandon's high cheekbones.

"Yeah." Brian closed his eyes, thinking, And now he's dead. For once even The Crow failed to lift his spirits and he wished he had put in The Matrix instead, except that, in general, he preferred Brandon to Keanu.

"You want some more popcorn?" He shook his head. Justin studied his face, features drawn not in anger or pain but in something akin to both that he couldn't quite pinpoint. "You want me to go home?" Again, no. "Then what can I-"

"Justin-"

"I know. You want me to shut up."

Brian opened his eyes. "No, I-I don't what I want."

"But you always know what you want."

Brian got to his feet. "No. I don't." He left the movie and Justin and returned to bed.

Realizing that Brian needed some time alone, Justin finished the popcorn and The Crow by himself. Forty minutes later he switched off the TV, dumped the remaining unpopped kernels, and placed the empty bowl in the dishwasher. That done he joined Brian. As he had suspected Brian was still awake. Lying on his side. Without disturbing him, Justin got under the covers and lay on his back staring at the ceiling.

Brian spoke softly. "I would miss you."

For a moment Justin thought he had fallen asleep and was dreaming. Turning his head, he looked at Brian's back.

"If you went away. I would miss you." Slowly he turned, as if afraid to face the ramifications of his actions.

Hardly daring to breathe, Justin asked, "Does that mean you don't want me to go?"

"No." Brian seemed firm on that point. "You have to do what's best for you and fuck everybody else. Including me."

"Then what does it mean?"

Brian sat up in bed. After a moment Justin did as well. "It means that I'll miss you. But I'm a big boy and I'll survive."

"I could go to school in-state-"

"Justin, don't fuck up your life because of me."

"Maybe I don't think staying here with you is a mistake."

Brian huffed. "I knew I shouldn't have said anything."

"Look," Justin said taking hold of Brian's arm, "I promise I won't make any decisions until I hear back from all the schools. I might not even get into Dartmouth or Brown."

"You'll get in."

"And I should go? That's what you're telling me?" he asked.

"You should make the right decision for you."

"Tell me something. Tell me the truth."

"I always do."

Justin released his grip on Brian but kept his fingers on his forearm. He spoke softly. "Do you think you'll ever love me? Do you even think it's possible?"

"This isn't fair, Justin."

"I just wanna know."

"What if I said yes, and you stayed, and it didn't happen?"

"Are you saying yes?" Brian couldn't meet his eyes. "You are, aren't you? You're saying yes." When Brian wouldn't confirm or deny Justin's assertion the youth climbed over onto him and sat straddle his hips. "Say it."

Smiling, Brian refused. "No."

Justin, with a shit-eating grin, pounced and began tickling Brian who roared with laughter. "Say it."

"No." Trying to fight Justin off with limbs that had gone weak.

"Say it!"

"Maybe."

"Say it!" He continued to tickle and Brian continued giggling. "Say yes."

"All right! Yes!" Brian exclaimed collapsing against the pillows at his back.

"Yes?" Now that he had won a confession from Brian Justin didn't want to believe it.

Brian took a deep breath. "Yes," he replied, all traces of merriment vanished. He drew Justin's head down for a kiss. Afterwards their heads remained together, foreheads touching.

"Can I ask you something else?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "Yeah."

"Do you think, maybe you'll love me by tomorrow?"

Brian bumped his head against Justin's. "Don't push it."

Justin held up a finger. "One more question." At Brian's groan, repeated, "Just one more."

Relenting but firm. "Last one."

"Do you think we could fuck now?"

Smiling, Brian kissed the edge of Justin's mouth. "That I can arrange." 

With one hand flat on the wall behind Brian's head and the other around his neck, Justin rose and fell upon the throbbing shaft, working his ass not only up and down the hard, slick column of flesh but also around, his hips moving in circles as he rode Brian's cock. Their lips were sealed in a kiss that seemed to go on forever. They broke contact only to take another deep breath before joining again. Finally, Brian pulled away and said against Justin's neck, "I want to look at you. I want to see all of you." Gingerly, Justin dismounted and lay back on the bed, awaiting Brian's next move.

Brian stood next to the bed and grabbed one of Justin's legs, pulled him over to the edge. Wrapping both hands around his legs, he raised Justin's lower body off the mattress and let his thighs and buttocks rest against his torso, his knees bent on either side of his neck, legs hanging over his back. Then, slowly, he began to stroke Justin's hips and belly, his chest and cock. His hands traveled over Justin's body as if he were a blind man surveying the lay of the land. As Brian continued his explorations, Justin began to brush his buttocks against Brian's torso, gyrating his hips in response to Brian's expert touches. "Oh, God…" His mouth opened and his tongue peeked out before disappearing inside once more. Brian took hold of his legs again, held them open, then leaned over, burying his face in Justin's groin, and began to lap at his sac. Justin moaned as Brian took first one and then the other swollen ball in his mouth, sucking each one until Justin wanted to scream. Hands in his hair, Justin endured as much of it as he could and then he begged, "Fuck me."

Letting Justin's body rest once again on the mattress, Brian retained his grip on his partner's legs. Instead of lifting him, he eased Justin's legs back over his torso, drawing his hips from the bed. Justin hooked an arm around each of his legs while Brian unrolled a new condom over his cock. The sight of Justin's hole, gaping open, waiting for him, wanting him, caused his dick to throb. Without fanfare, he entered him again, pressing his cock head against the relaxed opening and pushing until he had cleared the first ring of muscle. Brian continued to penetrate him until he was almost completely sheathed inside of Justin's ass. Taking over from Justin, Brian pressed down on the backs of his thighs, holding him in place while they fucked. He slid in and out of his lover with ease, building their arousal to a fevered pitch, until finally, he released Justin's thighs, let his legs fall over his shoulders, and pushed him further onto the bed. He climbed onto the bed as well and lowered himself until his chest was only a few inches from Justin's. They kissed as they fucked, Justin's hips rising to meet Brian's thrusts, devouring one another's lips in between stolen breaths. Justin gripped the back of Brian's neck and gave a strangled cry as a flood of wetness spread between them. Their bellies continued to slide against one another, lubricated by his cum. Finally, Brian buried his face in Justin's shoulder and shuddered, caught in the grip of his own orgasm. 

 

Brian lay on his belly and dreamt, Justin's head in the middle of his back and his arm around his waist. He saw them running across a yard, playing, throwing snowballs at one another. The sun shone bright, but not as bright as Justin's laugh. Try as he might, he couldn't tell where they were. There were no visual cues to aid his recognition. It could have been anywhere. Pittsburgh; or Hanover, New Hampshire; or Lucerne. His lips curled in a smile. It didn't matter. Least not in a dream.


	15. Idioteque Variations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10 brief vignettes; musings on Brian and Justin's relationship.

Movement one:  
Two sinuous forms, coming together, entwining, then pulling apart, flickering in the half-light. They were like the music itself, harmonious with moments of jarring syncopation. Feeling the percussive pulses in their blood, they responded in kind, hips gyrating, shoulders swaying, pivoting on bare feet. Their bodies spoke, one to the other, in the curve of a lip, the stretch of a thigh, the arch of a back. Performing for one another, they danced until sweat glistened on their faces. Brian raised an arm lazily and Justin moved within reach. Their bellies whispered, meaning conveyed in the sound, the feel of silk against lycra.

Movement two:  
Like the sky overarching the earth, Justin looked up at the expanse that was Brian’s body. Marveling at the view: at the mole in the hollow of his throat, the scar just above his right nipple, the indentation on his left thigh. Even his imperfections lent him a kind of beauty: the beauty of a home that has been lived in, cherished, flaunted when it was new, that even now still manages to dazzle. And Brian smiled.

Movement three:  
Asleep, despite his assertion that he could fuck all night. Blond head resting on a grey pillow. And Brian watched him sleep, visually tracing his features. The pale eyebrows, the slightly upturned nose, the high cheekbones, and full lips. Gently, he brushed back Justin’s bangs and placed a kiss upon his forehead. Justin shifted position but didn't wake, content to slumber beneath his scrutiny and the pale blue neon light.

Movement four:  
Dadda and Sonny Boy. Holding him, feeding him had felt so incredible. Here was the one thing he had done right, no matter what else he had done that was so terribly wrong. Redemption in the body of one tiny baby. He heard Justin stirring, knew that he would be out soon, would catch him with the photo, and he’d be faced with them both: lover and child, but he didn’t care. He needed to be reminded of what was important. Sometimes he found it difficult to separate his needs from the needs of others.

Movement five:  
The robe slid from his shoulders like water cascading down glass. Pooled around his waist where the belt remained tied. Indecent in his partial nudity. And there were Justin’s fingers against his naked skin. Traveling the length of his neck from collar bone to nape, combing through his hair. He lowered his face, and they kissed, and laughed, and fell into bed. Justin untied the robe and parted it to lay him bare.

Movement six:  
“Guess what?”

“I’m not good at guessing games.”

“I got into Dartmouth.”

(pause.)

“Congratulations.” (pause.) “When do you leave?”

(pause.)

“Excuse me, but could we have the check?”

“Sure.”

Movement seven:  
They fucked as if they hadn’t been together for months, as if they were going to be parted forever. Desperation and hunger fueled their every action. To devour, to consume. Gnawing on puffy lips, on tender nipples, swollen cocks. Thirsty, like the earth after a dry spell, Justin welcomed every drop of sweat, saliva, and cum that his lover rained upon him, blossoming with each sigh, each shout, each cry.

Movement eight:  
Michael paused in the middle of his latest Fat Marley story, this one about how she came to work with her skirt on backwards and no one told her all day. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he replied. “So what happened?”

“Maybe he won’t go.” No need to say who or to where.

“He should. If that’s what he wants.”

“What do you want?”

“It’s not about me.”

“Still…”

“Finish your story.”

Movement nine:  
 _“Not as long as I have you to protect me.”_  
Justin’s words haunted him. He worked free of the sheets and lay naked under the night air. He slept alone, Deb having declared that Justin should spend at least half his time in his own bed. Of course, Brian could have filled his place with someone else. His place. Fuck. The thought drove him to the kitchen. Justin’s place was with him. Christ. He poured a healthy dose of Jim Beam into a shot glass. Carried it back to the bedroom.  
He fingered the leather and cowry shell band around his wrist. Cam had left him with this bracelet and a broken heart. What would Justin leave him?

Movement ten:  
He returned to bed to find Justin fast asleep. They had made love slowly, savoring each moment, each movement of skin against skin. Standing next to the bed, he watched Justin extend his hand towards the spot where he usually lay. Lifting the edge of the sheet, he slipped beneath so that Justin’s arm lay across his hip. Then, reaching over Justin’s body, he turned the clock around with one hand and pulled out the knob that set the time. The hands stopped revolving around the face. Time had no meaning, no hold over them. Satisfied, he drew Justin to him and settled down to rest.

Explanation of the title:   
Idioteque: A song by Radiohead   
Variation: A form founded on repetition in which a discrete theme is repeated several or many times with various modifications.


	16. Shotgun (Number 1 with a Bullet)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian takes a stroll down memory lane, starting with number 10 and working his way up to number 1.

"What else do you remember about the night we met?" asked Justin, picking up where their conversation had left off at Babylon hours ago.

He liked to talk after sex. Brian had grown used to it, had even come to enjoy it-provided they didn't talk about relationship-type issues. Unfortunately, these days, everything seemed to revolve around the unspoken assumption that they were in a relationship, however open and non-binding; and, unfortunately, lately, he had begun to feel that soon he would have to make a decision regarding their future. Their future. Not his. Not Justin's alone, but theirs. His throat tightened and he found that he needed a moment before he could speak. He guessed Justin assumed he was thinking about his question. In truth, he didn't have to think about it. He had vivid memories of that night. Yes, there were gaps in the record but the things he did remember he thought he would never forget.

"You were standing under a street light. Like in a movie."

"What movie?"

"A horror movie," Brian replied. "A Nightmare on Liberty Avenue," he teased, biting Justin's ear.

"Fuck you," Justin said, pushing his attacker away.

Brian looked up from beneath thick lashes. "Maybe next time."

"Promises, promises." Justin rolled over onto his belly and pillowed his head in his arms. He had to stay awake, had to go home, school tomorrow, and Deb had said that he had to cut down on the number of nights he spent at Brian's place. Besides, Brian seemed a little restless tonight and if he stayed they'd end up fucking until dawn and he needed to get some sleep tonight. As if he had read Justin's thoughts, Brian reached over and stroked the teen's bare flank. Justin captured his hand and kissed his fingers. "What else?" he asked, hoping to distract him.

Brian smiled knowingly. Indulged him. "All right." Took a deep breath and let it out, venting the sudden build-up of desire. "I remember thinking you were so young. And beautiful. And so fucking young," he repeated.

"Not anymore," countered Justin. "I'm eighteen."

"When's the first Social Security check coming in? You can spring for dinner at Papagano's."

But Justin just as quickly replied, "You don't do dates, remember?"

"I'd make an exception. On **my** birthday," he said referring to their date to celebrate Justin's birthday.

"Then," began Justin, "maybe we can go Dutch. Since you'll be collecting benefits too," he taunted, knowing how much Brian dreaded turning thirty. As if he'd turn from a studmuffin to a total geriatric case over night. Sometimes Brian showed a stunning lack of common sense and logic.

Brian grabbed him and rolled him over onto his back. Kissed him hard and growled, "Just for that, I'm not letting you go."

 _As if that was punishment_ , thought Justin, forgetting all about Deb and her rules, just wanting to feel Brian hard against him once more. But thinking about Deb made him think about the decision he had to make regarding college. Only he couldn't really concentrate with Brian licking his throat and stroking his cock. He needed time to think about what Brian had said to him at Babylon, to think about his parents, about everything. Brian kissed his way down to his breastbone. God, he had to put an end to this. Grabbing the back of Brian's head, Justin said, "I can't. I can't," he reiterated as Brian stopped kissing and looked up at him.

"Why not?"

"I have to go home."

"Now?" Brian lowered his head and made to begin once more, as if the decision had been reversed.

But Justin drew his head back up again. "Now."

Brian squeezed his sac, eliciting a groan. Then let the length of Justin's cock rest against his palm. "You sure?"

As much as he wanted to say, 'Fuck me,' he didn't. "Yeah."

Giving Justin a final kiss, Brian got up and hunted for his jeans. "I'll drive you home." 

 

Before he got out of the jeep, Justin asked, "Why don't you ever kiss me goodnight?"

"I don't hold your hand either when we cross the street and I don't hear you complaining about that."

Justin was about to get out when suddenly he turned and took hold of Brian's face and kissed him softly beside the mouth. "'Night."

Refusing to look after the teen as he turned the key in the lock, Brian waited until the front door closed before speeding away from the curb. He didn't know whether to be angry or not. Justin steadfastly held on to the belief that they were a couple and no matter what he did to dissuade him of that notion, the boy refused to surrender it. _Only_ , Brian asked himself, _how hard are you really trying?_ Even when he didn't reciprocate, he allowed Justin to express his feelings. He hadn't kissed Justin but he had let Justin kiss him. If that had been anyone else, he would have pulled away, refused them with a harsh word. Then why let Justin do it? Why these double standards?

He parked and took the elevator upstairs. Threw his jacket across the back of the sofa and stripped again. Climbed into bed. Only he couldn't sleep.

Had he done the right thing at Babylon, coming down so hard on Justin? Was staying in Pittsburgh the best thing for him? There were good reasons for Justin to go and to stay. He just wanted Justin to be truthful to himself. Ruefully, he shook his head and reached for a cigarette. Lit it and took a deep draw. Truth. How truthful was he being to himself about Justin? But he rejected that train of thought. He was always truthful. The problem was the truth shifted, mutated, proved elusive. He'd re-examine his beliefs to find that they had transformed, maybe metamorphosed. The naturalness of his feelings for Justin sometimes alarmed him. He wanted to tell himself that it was just the drugs or a desire not to crush the kid or a hundred other excuses but the fact remained that Justin had remained when so many others had been sent on their way. Not wanting to examine that too closely, not tonight, he pushed the thought away. Only, it refused to budge.

Why Justin and not the others? What others? he snorted. It was a well-known fact, he didn't do guys more than once. Of course, that wasn't exactly the truth. There were a few. He could count on both hands the number of men he'd been with more than once. God, what a group…

**10**

If he could have erased his memories of Cam, he would have, but some things were beyond even his control. To have to remember the good times in the midst of the bad didn't seem fair when all he wanted was not to remember anything at all. If he could have lied to himself and told himself that they had never been in love, that he had never felt anything but hatred for Cam, he would have slept easier; but if he was brutally honest when it came to others, he was just as hard on himself. Most of the time.

So he was stuck with these unwanted memories that surfaced from time to time to remind him of the way it used to be. To recall the pleasure of feeling Cam's hands around his waist, holding him as they fucked, as he sank down upon his lover's cock. The candlelit dinners, the parties where they danced every dance together, Sunday brunches in bed, the way Cam would whisper his name from across the room and make the hairs stand up on the back of his neck…

Brian jerked up and shook his head. _Not tonight. Let it go. Let him go._

**9**

The thing he remembered most about Chet wasn't that he liked to wear diapers while Brian spanked him, it was how they met.

As he entered the elevator he felt the man's eyes on him, checking out his suit, his hair, his shoes, his basket. Tsk tsk. Brian grinned, punched the button for his floor, and stood with his back to the guy. Didn't even notice the other three people on the car. They didn't register. Beneath his radar. The man, he had possibilities. Older than he usually liked them but not yet forty he guessed. Successful. The suit was an Armani from the latest collection. Nice. Good haircut. Looked like he worked out at least three or four times a week. Brian hated fat. He sensed a movement behind him as the car came to a stop. The three other people got off. No one got on. Making a split-second decision, Brian punched the stop button and turned just as the man reached for him. They banged against the wall of the elevator as they kissed, the man unzipping Brian's pants and grabbing his cock through the thin material of his underwear. He worked the briefs down and dropped to his knees. Brian sighed as the man's mouth closed around his cock. He had a meeting in twenty minutes but they didn't need twenty minutes. He could already feel his dick getting hard. Ten at the most.

Just as he was about to blow, the guy stood and turned him towards the elevator wall. Got behind him and grabbed his dick once more. Jacked him until he came. Cum splattered the steel wall of the car. As he put his cock away, he watched the man kneel and, with a linen handkerchief, wipe the cum from the shiny surface. He replaced the handkerchief in his pocket and smiled. Removed a Montblanc pen and a business card. Wrote something on the back and handed it to Brian. He glanced at it as he pressed the run button. Smirked. "Eight it is," he confirmed, before stepping out of the opened doors onto his floor.

**8**

Cross-country trips could be so boring which was why his eyes lit up the moment he saw the hottie in flight attendant drag coming out of the cockpit into First Class. Timothy, his name tag said. _Well, Timothy,_ thought Brian, _this is your lucky day._

Timothy came over to take his drink order. "What can I get for you, sir?"

"Jim Beam, straight up," he replied, flashing his brightest smile, and before Timothy could inform him that they didn't have Jim Beam, he added, "or bourbon if you have it."

"Kentucky, sir."

"Is there any other kind?" he asked.

Without replying, Timothy continued down the aisle taking drink orders and returned a few minutes later to dispense them. As he handed Brian his glass of bourbon, his fingers brushed against Brian's and lingered a moment too long. Brian pursed his lips, eyes sparkling. "Just what I needed."

"Glad to be of service, sir." Timothy was leaning over him still; having discharged his duty, he found it hard to leave. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

"Not at the moment," he answered. Finally, Timothy left. Brian sipped his drink and thought about the fun he would have with Timothy. Later.

It turned out that the flight crew was based in Seattle and this was their regular run. As he exited the airplane, he shook Timothy's hand. The flight attendant palmed the slip of paper with Brian's hotel and room number on it like a pro.

Despite the fact that he had an early morning meeting Brian stayed up half the night fucking his guest. Timothy turned out to be surprisingly flexible. "You're a goddamn contortionist," Brian told him as he stood over him, thrusting down into Timothy who was on his back and bent nearly in two.

Lucky for him he had a couple more trips to make out to Seattle and, surprise surprise, Timothy worked each flight. This was definitely flying the friendly skies.

**7**

Graham was intelligent. Erudite some would say. He would definitely say. A bit of a priss. An elitist. He took great pride in surveying the great, unwashed masses from above, from an earned position of privilege. Constantly taking great pains to elucidate the differences between a snob and an elitist: "A snob has pretensions. An elitist earns the right to be superior."

They encountered one another in a bookstore. Brian was supposed to meet a trick there but the guy was late. His patience running thin, he was about to leave when a man accosted him and held a book up to his own face. "What do you think?" the man asked. "Is it a good likeness?"

On the verge of responding with some withering put-down, Brian laughed instead. The guy had balls. And a published book. Brian snatched the slender hardcover from him and flipped it over. It was a porn novel. He laughed again, and carried it to the counter. Paid for the copy, then handed it back to the author. "So… can I get your autograph?"

Graham took the book and slipped it in his pocket. Looked Brian over from top to bottom. "Exactly where would you like me to sign?"

Over the next several weeks Brian helped him with the research for his next book. In the middle of the night Graham would call him with some new idea and Brian would drive over to his house and help him figure out the mechanics. It was an equitable arrangement; and it was with a tinge of regret that they parted, the latest masterpiece completed.

**6**

Brian fought to catch his breath as Ramon licked the last of the gazpacho from his body. Aroused to the point that his cock had begun to leak, Brian had spent the last few minutes of his exquisite ordeal writhing about as Ramon's tongue and lips cleared the cool soup from his skin. Upon his arrival at the apartment, Ramon had ladled it onto him and spread it over his skin with his hands. Crawling up onto Brian, Ramon kissed him and pronounced everything to be, "Just perfect." Then he slipped a condom over Brian's dick and rode his cock while reciting the recipe. _"One medium cucumber, one medium green bell pepper… oh… a small onion… fresh parsley leaves… two and a half pounds of ripe tomatoes-Mmm… a cup of tomato juice… red wine vinegar… extra-virgin olive oil… and two cloves of garlic…"_ He did love to cook.

So much so that he missed a scheduled assignation with Brian and was told, the next time he called, to 'fuck off.'

**5**

It was probably not a good idea to fuck your tailor but after seeing Dakota in head-to-toe leather at Babylon, Brian knew he had to have some. Especially since he possessed a ten-inch cock that looked every bit of seven inches in diameter. Plus he had nimble fingers. Cupping Dakota's leather-covered crotch, Brian had whispered, "Maybe it's time you undressed me instead of dressing me."

"I've been undressing you in my dreams for months," Dakota replied.

That should have sent off warning bells, but at the moment Brian was busy listening to his cock, and the sound of its need drowned out any other noise. Giving the tailor's basket a final squeeze, he tugged on the waistband of the jockstrap. "Come on."

Roughly fucking Brian in the doorway of his bedroom, holding onto the doorframe and Brian's hip, Brian bent over the steps, Dakota rode his ass hard, pounding his hole until he thought he would split him open. Then he jerked out and skinned the condom from his cock. Brian, released, turned over and lay half-on, half-off the steps. He grabbed his dick and pulled on it, his shaft slick with pre-cum. Cried out as the first spurt erupted from his slit dotting his belly with cum. Dakota tugged on his cock and was rewarded with a stream of cum that splattered Brian's hand and dick. They continued to jack off until both were empty and Brian was streaked with their efforts. Running his hand through their cum, he painted his cock and balls, his asshole, his belly and thighs. Then, legs spread open, he gazed up at Dakota and smiled. No other invitation needed, Dakota squatted between his thighs and began to lick him clean.

Unfortunately, he grew tired of Dakota and refused to see him after the third fuck session. In retaliation, the tailor made a few stitching errors when he altered Brian's brand new Hugo Boss. There was an ugly scene. Things were said in the heat of the moment that both meant quite seriously and they parted, Dakota to find another fuck partner, Brian a new tailor. Some things you just didn't screw with and Hugo Boss was definitely one of them.

**4 and 3**

Brian Kinney at a baseball game. He looked around hoping that no one he knew was there and had seen him. Of course, no one he knew would be caught dead at a baseball game, especially the minor leagues, least no one whose opinion he cared about. Then again, he didn't really care about anyone's opinion. Feeling better now that he had solved his quandary, he slipped on his sunglasses so that his client wouldn't see that he was paying about as much attention to the game as he would have to a Miss America pageant. Which was to say, not at all.

And then they came onto the field. Even from behind the sunglasses he could see that they were something special. Twins. A pitcher and a catcher. Playing for the same team. He smiled. Maybe they played for his team as well. No matter. He was completely convinced that given the right motivation, even a straight guy would give it up for him. After all, he was an advertiser. He could sell anything. And the best product he had to work with was himself.

He gave the twins another look, taking off his sunglasses this time. It'd been a while since he'd been adequately challenged. They'd do. They'd do just fine.

The twins had been flattered to hear that they had a fan. Expecting a kid, they were surprised to come out of the locker room to find Brian waiting for them. Looking like every gay boy's dream in a pair of tight blue jeans and a russet sweater, his hair tousled, sunglasses perched on his nose, black leather jacket opened, leaning rakishly against the wall seemingly oblivious to the looks he was getting from men and women alike. Only he was aware of everything. Aware of the twins' confusion, their hesitation. He shifted and they moved forward, both of them, involuntarily. A grin spread across his face. He had them.

That night he was surprised that his downstairs neighbors didn't call the police. The twins, James and John, were as rough off as the field as they were on it, and just as talented. The three of them spent hours in bed, Brian fucking James and being fucked by John-they played exactly the opposite positions off the baseball diamond. When the two brothers left in the morning, Brian had to lay in bed another hour just to find the strength to get up and shower. Definitely the right call.

After that, whenever the boys were in town for a game, they paid a special visit to their number one fan.

**2**

So fucking Kip had turned out to be a gigantic mistake, an almost career-ending mistake. Everyone was entitled. He just wished he knew why the little asshole had dropped the suit. Not out of any sudden onset of conscience. Of that he was certain. Which meant something else happened which made dropping the suit the only option available. And what the hell could that have been? Following Mel's advice, he hadn't sought out Kip, decided to let it go. Only, it continued to nag at him.

What had he seen in him anyway? He wasn't that great-looking, okay-looking, but not beautiful, not stunning. And he definitely was not the world's greatest lay. So why had he compounded issues by fucking him twice? What had come over him? He remembered what happened in his office with crystal clarity and at no one moment could he stop his recollections and say, there, that's the moment that I realized I really wanted him. If Kip hadn't made that overture, he would have let him walk out of his office without a second thought. But Kip had wanted him and, he guessed, if he were being honest with himself, he would acknowledge that the thought of Kip wanting him had turned him on. But why? It wasn't as if men didn't want him all the time. He turned down more advances in one night than most people in their entire lifetimes. And still it wasn't enough. He understood that. What he didn't understand was why. Justin had asked him once why wasn't he enough, and he remembered at the time thinking that he had said almost the same thing to Cam. Maybe that was it, that he needed to be wanted, to feel wanted, desired, to convince himself that he was enough for someone. Only it was never enough because that someone was never Cameron. And he didn't understand that either. How, years later, he still thought needed something from Cam, something he would never get: validation.

**1**

If someone would have asked him what came to mind when he thought of Justin, his first response would have been that he didn't think about Justin and then he would have said his smile. He remembered the way Justin had smiled in the jeep saying, "You do. You give a shit." Smiling when he realized that Brian had just asked him to come over and play. When Brian declared his jambalaya to be 'Not bad.' All it took was one kind word from Brian or a little attention and he beamed. It should have made Brian ashamed but it didn't; because he did make Justin smile.

And then he'd say he often thought of them having sex, the way Justin moaned as if he couldn't contain all the pleasure he was feeling. His moans sent shivers up Brian's spine, made him hard, made him dizzy. No matter what it took, he did it, just to hear the delicious sound of Justin moaning in ecstasy. Sometimes all it took was for him to just lie there while Justin sucked him off, moaning around his cock, the vibrations traveling the length of his shaft like electric shocks until he had to clench his teeth to keep from screaming.

He thought of Justin telling him that he loved him, needed him, wanted him, cherished him. Not just with words, but also in the way that he was there when Brian needed him, whether Brian wanted to admit it or not; the way that he listened when Brian bitched; comforted him when he was upset; yelled at him when he needed to be set straight. Only it wasn't all one-sided. He was there for Justin too, taking him in when he had no place else to go; trying to protect him from his parents, from the world, even if he couldn't; listening to him vent when Justin needed to let off steam; giving him advice, particularly if Justin didn't want to hear it.

He poured himself another drink and wandered around the loft. Time had gone by so fast. They had known each other almost six months. Half a year. And in a few more months Justin would be graduating, maybe leaving Pittsburgh, the state. Discovering a whole new world outside of Liberty Avenue, where he could make his own way, find his own place. Why should he stand in the way of that? What was he offering him? Nothing concrete, just vague promises along with just enough affection to ensure that Justin remained hopeful. And why? So that he'd have another Mikey tagging behind him now that Michael had begun to build a life of his own? But Justin wasn't Michael, had never been content just to be petted and kissed and then put away. Justin demanded a place in his life and had, chip by chip, carved out a niche for himself. Only they couldn't remain like this forever. Justin would grow tired of being nudged aside by Brian's inability to commit. One day they would argue, and Justin would leave, and he wouldn't return. Brian gazed at himself in the mirror. _How would you like that?_ he asked himself silently. He had no answer.

Returning to bed, he wrapped himself in the sheet, smelling Justin still, his scent woven in the strands of cotton. Laid his head upon the pillow Justin had used, a blond hair becoming entwined with his own. He stared at the cellphone on the nightstand. Finally he picked it up and dialed Deb's house, hoping she and Vic had gone to bed and that Justin hadn't. After two rings he started to hang up and then he heard a sleepy, "Hello." Justin.

"Hey," he said hoarsely, his heart beating rapidly, and not from his recent exertions.

"Brian?" the teen asked.

"Yeah."

Instantly Justin became alert. "What is it?"

He paused before answering, aware that there would be no turning back from this point on, that he had left himself no secret exit, no hidden trapdoor through which to escape from his own feelings. Even if Justin didn't realize the importance of what he was doing, he did. And it scared him. "I… I just wanted to say goodnight."

There was silence on the other end of the line and then he could see Justin smiling, could feel the warmth. "Goodnight." Pause. "I…"

The rest of Justin's words were lost as Brian lowered the phone. He felt like someone had just shot him from the barrel of a gun and he was traveling about a thousand miles per hour. Had felt that way since the moment he first met Justin. _"What else do you remember about the night we met?"_ Justin had asked and he could have told him, "I remember seeing you standing in the lamplight, just like in a movie; and thinking that you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I remember asking you if it was your first time and telling you about me and the coach. But what I didn't tell you was that I was just as scared as you, because it was your first time, and I was your first, and I didn't want to hurt you. I remember looking into your eyes, knowing that you trusted me, that despite everything, you trusted me. And you didn't even know me. Or maybe you did." He wished he had been able to say all those things to Justin on the phone instead of just "Goodnight," meaning, 'Goodbye. I'll miss you.' Yet, somehow, he thought, Justin might have understood anyway. Maybe that's what it meant, being connected, that you could hear the intent behind the words. And that by saying goodbye this time, knowing that they'd see each other soon, he would never have to say it for good, watching Justin leave forever.


	17. Funeral Games (after Mary Renault)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian struggles with his father's death.

[From the Dictionary of Phrase and Fable: "Funeral Games. Public games were held both in Greece and Rome in honor of the honored dead." An example would be the games held by Achilles during the Trojan War in honor of his beloved friend, Patrocles.] 

 

He had known the instant Brian had avowed, "I said I'm fine," that he hadn't been, but to push him in any way would have been a mistake and Brian would have lashed out at him and said something that he might not have been able to take back, not with the guys sitting at the next table. Over the months that they had been seeing one another, Justin had learned how far he could take things with Brian. He knew that sometimes Brian attacked over-aggressively because that was the way he had learned to survive. So Justin had walked away, waited on other customers, and left Brian to sulk in his booth. Even Michael and the guys had let him be after their initial questions. They too had fallen afoul of Brian's ire before and had no desire to provoke him.

Only now, a day later, sitting next to Brian at Woody's, Justin felt an overwhelming desire to be alone with him, to ask him how he really felt about his dad dying, to find out if he needed comforting. As soon as Ted diverted active attention away from him and his Daphne dilemma, Justin turned to Brian and whispered, "I think I need a refresher course in being a top." He held his breath not sure how Brian would respond.

He laughed. "Tonight."

Laughing more in relief than anything, Justin suggested, "Maybe I can write crib notes on my cock. That way I won't forget when I'm with Daph."

"Give me two hours," chuckled Brian. "I gotta do something at my mom's house." At that Brian's face darkened for a moment and Justin had to force himself not to touch him. There'd be time enough for that later. 

 

As much as he tried not to, he counted the hours, the minutes until he was due at Brian's. Changed clothes three times as if Brian would a) notice and b) let him keep them on for long. A half hour before time he called Deb at the diner to see if she was coming home soon to take him over to Brian's; and fifteen minutes before she was due to show up he went outside and waited for her to arrive. As soon as she pulled up, he hopped in the car and urged her to hurry.

"Keep your pants on. At least until you get to Brian's," she added, chortling.

"Ha. Ha."

Then her demeanor changed. "This thing with his dad has really gotten to him. He's like a wounded tiger. I've seen it before and he can be dangerous when he's like that."

"Brian wouldn't hurt me."

"I don't mean physically."

He looked at her. "Neither do I."

"Sunshine---"

"I know you think he's just using me---"

She interrupted. "No, I don't. I think he really cares for you."

"Then---"

"And that's worse. Because you both may end up getting hurt."

Justin stared straight ahead, not wanting to say it but not being able to keep it in. "I'm not Michael."

"No, you're not. You went after Brian because you didn't know any better. Michael knows him. Inside and out."

"And he still wants him," he said hotly. "But he'll never have him."

Deb said nothing in return.

Having reached an uneasy impasse they fell quiet and rode in silence the rest of the way to Brian's apartment. As Justin started to get out he said, "I didn't mean it."

"Yeah, you did," she said softly. "It's his best quality."

Slinging his bookbag over his shoulder, he closed the door and looked for Brian's jeep. There it was, parked on the opposite side of the street under a lamppost. Glancing up he could see the blue glow from the neon light over Brian's bed through a window in the living room. As he entered in the security code for the building he reflected on Deb's words and the implications. He didn't know why he had gotten so pissed off except that he was tired of people telling him how to deal with Brian as if he hadn't been sleeping with the man for months now. Did they think that all they did was fuck? That Brian never talked to him, never confided in him? He knew what they had, had few illusions about their relationship, accepted it for what it was, and if occasionally he grew impatient with Brian and demanded more or let his heart get carried away, then he took his lumps like a man. He didn't need anybody to tell him how Brian was when he was hurt or angry. He'd been there. He knew.

Brian opened and closed the door behind him. Removed his backpack from his shoulder and dropped it by the sofa. Took the teen in his arms and kissed him long and hard. They parted but before Justin could say anything, Brian cautioned, "No talking." Justin's pulse began to hammer at his temples as Brian resumed kissing him. No one kissed like Brian. Of course, lips like Brian's were made for kissing. The perfect shade of cinnamon red, sweetly curved… and after a few minutes of kissing they would swell and Justin would catch the bottom one between his lips and suck on it until he felt dizzy.

In bed now, Brian on his back, savoring the feel of Justin's mouth on his body, lips brushing over sensitive skin, tongue flickering in and out of crevices. Justin knew how bored Brian got with people telling him he was beautiful or that he had a beautiful body, but sometimes he longed to tell him how much he loved to touch him---to kiss his nipples, his ribs, his neck---because he found Brian to be pleasing. He supposed, in a way, the sketches he had done of Brian did just that. Still, to run his fingers up Brian's thighs, lean yet with just enough flesh, enough muscle to mound just so beneath his palm…The same with his calves. As Justin kissed the inside of his thighs, he cupped his calves, squeezing the supple flesh. He heard Brian sigh as his tongue trailed over the smooth skin between his knees and groin.

Brian opened his thighs and Justin lay between them, kissing his chest and throat, making his way back up to those beautiful lips. As they kissed he felt Brian's cock stir, felt his own throb in response. Without any further encouragement reached down and began stroking Brian's dick. When Brian began to harden, Justin slid back down his body and lowered his face between his thighs. Brian sighed and let his head rest against his pillow as Justin went down on him. Justin's head bobbed over his groin, his mouth devoured him. When they first got together he had tolerated the teen's less than expert attempts to give him head, hoping the boy would learn by example. Then he came to his senses and just told him what felt good and what didn't. Since then Justin's skill had improved tremendously and more than ever Brian enjoyed being on the receiving end of his blowjobs. He especially loved to watch Justin's ample lips sliding up and down his shaft. Full. Luscious. Ripe. A few more minutes of intense attention and he drew Justin up on top of him. "Let me see your technique," ordered Brian, raising his hips and placing a pillow beneath his behind. He spread open his legs and drew up his knees.

Justin unrolled a condom over his hard-on and lubed Brian's hole.

"Remember," he said as Justin withdrew his finger, "I'm a seventeen year old girl." He grinned. "Be gentle." And then Justin pressed the head of cock against his anus and pushed. Brian's mouth fell open and he took a long breath as Justin entered him only releasing it as Justin paused about halfway in.

"Okay?" Justin asked and Brian nodded. Justin shifted position, supporting himself on both hands, and proceeded inch by inch until he was all the way in. Brian drew his head down and they kissed while his body adjusted to Justin's cock. Raising up, Justin looked at Brian and waited for a signal. Brian laid a hand upon Justin's flank and smiled. Taking that as a go-ahead, Justin began a slow withdrawal.

Brian struggled to remember that he was supposed to be acting the part of an inexperienced, straight girl and that he was supposed to be giving Justin tips on how to be considerate and generous. Instead he wanted to grab hold of Justin and growl, "Fuck me," in his ear. Feel the bed shift as Justin rammed his ass. He groaned and Justin was instantly alert.

"What?"

Eyelids fluttering, Brian cupped the back of Justin's neck and rose up. They kissed hard and deep. "Practice is over." Falling back on the bed, Brian wrapped his legs around Justin's waist and held on as Justin began to thrust harder, faster. "Yeah…" Brian breathed. Justin arched his back and pushed the last inch of his dick inside Brian's ass causing Brian's hole to stretch open even wider. Brian unwrapped his legs from around Justin's waist and turned onto his side, throbbing cock still buried in his ass. Placing a hand on Brian's hip, Justin got up on his knees and withdrew almost to the tip and then plunged back inside. Brian grabbed a fistful of sheet and moaned as Justin fucked him, the teen's cock sliding in and out of the slippery tunnel of his ass. He tried to squeeze his muscles as Justin withdrew but couldn't, caught up in the sensation of being fucked, of being jolted about on the bed as Justin hammered him. Finally Justin threw back his head and shouted. Brian tightened his hole around Justin, increasing the intensity of his climax.

Justin lowered his head and waited until his heart began to beat at a less frantic pace. He withdrew and rolled Brian over onto his back. Spread his thighs. Just as Brian reached for his cock, Justin thrust his fingers inside his ass and began to finger fuck him. Brian groaned and pulled on his dick, stomach muscles rippling as Justin added a third finger and then a fourth. Justin lowered his face and began to lick and suck Brian's balls as he continued to work his fingers. Brian lifted his feet from the bed, pressing the tips of his toes into the mattress as he got closer and closer to the point of no return. Hands falling away, he let Justin take over, the teen squatting between his open thighs, fingers out of his ass and wrapped around his dick, both hands stroking, pulling, tugging on his cock and balls until finally Brian gave a strangled cry and came. 

"So where's your dad's funeral gonna be?" They lay in bed eating Cheerios, the pasta with pink sauce postponed until after the funeral, until Brian had more time.

"You can't come," replied Brian, answering Justin's real question.

"Why not?"

"You got a hard-on for funerals?"

"Is Michael gonna to be there?"

"Michael knew my dad. You didn't."

"Funerals are for the living. I wanna be there for you."

Brian's face closed down. "No."

"Brian---"

"How the fuck would I explain you to my mom?"

"Tell her the truth." Brian glared at him. "Tell her you've been fucking an eighteen year old high school student."

Brian rolled over. "Let it go."

"You're a fucking hypocrite," Justin said to his back. "Always preaching to me about living your own life and you won't even tell your mom you're gay."

"I promised the old man," he said, facing Justin once more.

"Bullshit. As if you care."

"Drop it."

"Make me." Brian lunged towards him and Justin tensed and then relaxed as Brian began kissing him. That was definitely one way to get him off the subject. They continued to kiss until it became obvious that neither one of them would be satisfied by a round of heavy petting. Just as Brian pulled away to fumble for a condom, Justin caught hold of his shoulders and got his attention. "Please."

No need to provide a context, they both knew what he was referring to. "I said drop it." Angry, Brian sat up in bed and looked down at Justin. "If you wanna talk, I'm going to sleep. We can either fuck, or we can sleep, but I won't talk about my dad with---" He stopped abruptly, aware too late of what he was about to say.

"With me," finished Justin. "Because I'm nobody." He threw back the covers and moved to the edge of the bed. "But I bet you'd talk about him with Michael."

"Would you lay off about Michael?"

Justin gripped the edge of the mattress. "I would except--- he's there, in the middle of your every thought." He stood. "I should go hang up my uniform."

As soon as he had exited the bedroom, Brian closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. He knew it had been a mistake to let Justin come over, and still he had done it, needing to relax, to forget about the funeral and his fucking family, and Justin couldn't do that, couldn't be just a body needing a body, he wanted it all: the fucking, the friendship, and everything that went with being a lover and not just another trick. He turned over onto his side preparing to sleep as Justin returned with his uniform and hung it in the closet among Brian's suits. Their eyes didn't meet as the teen passed by him making his way to the other side of the bed. Only, instead of getting in, Justin took a pillow from the head of the bed and a throw from the foot and returned to the living room, to the sofa. Softly, Brian swore, "Fuck." Counting to ten, he waited for the tension to leave his shoulders and neck and then got out of bed and followed.

He found Justin sitting on the sofa, naked, with the throw and pillow next to him. Could tell that he was probably crying. He stood behind him for a while, then reached out and touched him, fingers combing through the hair at the nape of his neck. He let his hand slide down over his shoulder, then pulled away. Returned to bed. It was all he could do, all he would allow himself to do. Still, he waited. Remaining alert for ten minutes to see if Justin would return. At the moment he was about to give up and go to sleep, the teen appeared on the steps in the doorway. Saying nothing, Justin climbed into bed and turned over onto his side, facing away from Brian. Eyes fixed on his back, Brian studied the set of his shoulders, reading anger and pain in the tense muscles. Sliding closer, he eased his arm around Justin's waist and drew him to his chest.

At first Justin resisted and then he allowed his body to relax, his head to rest against Brian's breastbone. He could feel Brian's chest rise and fall beneath his back, and the contact gave him comfort. This was where he belonged. 

 

Michael left, leaving a bottle of water next to him, warning him not to become dehydrated. As the door to the loft slid shut, Brian wanted to scream, except if he did his head would most likely explode. The drugs and the booze would probably catch up with him one day and all the water in the world wouldn't keep him from self-destructing. His hands shook as he sat up and finished undressing. Christ, what had he been thinking? He hadn't. That was always the problem. He didn't think, just did, just reacted. How could he have said those things to Mikey? Even now he could feel Michael's cock in his hand. Shit. And Michael had sounded so hurt when he said, "What? A drunken fuck so you don't have to think about your dad? I don't want that."

And what did he want? He wanted to call Justin but he couldn't. Wouldn't use him to forget, wouldn't let him see how far he had fallen. Sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, Brian trembled, a tear sliding down along side his nose. By accident he glimpsed the bowling bag in the corner and he jerked off the bed and grabbed the handles. He'd toss it, take it downstairs and throw it in the dumpster and that'd be the end of that. Only he couldn't lift it. The bag suddenly seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. Letting go, he stumbled back to bed and laid down, his head still spinning. 

 

It had felt good to watch the ball roll away into the night, its path illuminated by the smoky light from an alley. As it vanished, he'd felt some of the anger and hurt unravel, trailing the path of the ball. He had lived with that weight inside him for so long that he felt about twenty pounds lighter. Not that he had completely forgiven Jack for all the shitty things he had done but he could breathe now without the acrid taste of regret and hate flavoring every mouthful of air when he thought about him.

The first thing he had done upon coming home was to call Justin. "I'm still waiting for my pasta with pink sauce. What the fuck is pink sauce anyway?"

Justin had laughed. "Tomatoes and heavy cream. Philistine."

"Fuck you."

"After dinner." 

Opening the door to his loft, he let Justin in and closed it again. Before Justin had a chance to start in about the funeral, Brian asked, "So, did you do it?"

Justin put the grocery bag on the counter. "Do what?"

He grabbed two beers from the fridge and opened them. "Make a woman out of your little friend."

"Yeah," he replied taking the proffered beer.

Irritation he had expected and maybe belligerence but Justin seemed almost sad. "Everything go all right?"

Justin began unpacking the groceries. "During, yeah. Except…"

Brian perched on one of the bar stools. "Except what?"

"I don't want to talk about it." He took out the chopping board and started with the garlic and onions.

Shaking his head, Brian said, "That's a first."

"Why don't we talk about you instead?"

"Because we aren't finished with you. So what happened?"

Justin paused in his chopping. "She got all weird on me."

"Weird how?"

"She started acting like we were a couple, like just because we had sex we were in love or something."

Bemused, Brian hid a smile behind his beer. "You don't say?"

"I mean, she knows I'm gay. I don't understand what she thought would happen."

Brian set his beer down and said without looking at Justin, "Maybe she knows what she wants and what she wants is you."

"But she can't have me."

At that Brian laughed out loud.

"It's not funny, Brian. She called me eleven times today."

"Wow," Brian marveled, "that definitely beats your all-time record of seven calls in one day, unless you count the four email messages, and then you'd be dead even." He finished his beer and stood.

Justin resumed chopping and then stopped. "You're saying I'm just like Daphne."

"I'm sorry," began Brian, "you were. What was it you said to me? 'I want you.'" He rounded the counter and moved in close to the sexy, young chef.

"And you said, 'You can't have me,'" Justin challenged, and then he realized the trap he had walked into, because he did have him, even if it was under Brian's conditions. "That's different."

"How?"

"For one thing, I'm gay. I know what I like, and I like dick." He unbuttoned and unzipped Brian's jeans. Slipped his hand inside and stroked his lover's cock. "Specifically, I like your dick."

"Does your mother know you talk like that?"

Justin smiled. "I told her."

Brian snickered. "If I were to tell my---" He stopped. Took hold of Justin's hands and led him to the sink. "Wash your hands and get back to the sauce."

After dinner, which Brian pronounced to be, 'Pretty good,' they fooled around on the couch, Justin straddling Brian's lap, his pants around his hips, and Brian's hand around his dick as they kissed. Then, in the midst of the heavy breathing and sighing, Brian released him and eased him off his lap. Stood, but didn't go anywhere, just remained where he was.

"What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"Don't shut me out."

Brian glanced over at him, then looked away. Started to say something, then stalked away. Justin pulled up his pants and followed, almost stepping on Brian's heels when he stopped abruptly. Turned. "You think you want to know, but you don't."

"I do." He braved a touch, fingers alighting on Brian's arm like a gentle breeze. "No matter what."

Returning to the couch, they sat on opposite ends. Brian stared down at his hands. Then said, "The Kinney clan must be the worst fucking family in the world. It was like being raised by wolves. Never sure when you were going to get your throat ripped out. You never knew where you stood. Sometimes Jack would come home drunk as shit and he'd actually be pleasant. And then there'd be nights when he was as sober as a nun and out of nowhere he'd just tear into you for no reason except that you were there. I used to think it was something I had done. Because sometimes it was like he fucking hated me. And then I realized that he did. And there was nothing I could have done, because… Because…" He swallowed.

"Why did he hate you?"

Brian faced Justin, his eyes shiny. "Because I had been born," he said giving a little breath of a laugh. "I remember…" he paused, let the pain subside. "I remember the first time I got drunk. It was with Mikey. We skipped school and went to his house. I had a bottle in my backpack. Stole it from the liquor cabinet at home. There was so much booze in my house my parents would have never missed it. The night before, Jack had gone out drinking and whoring around and come home and I remember sitting at the kitchen table, doing my homework, and he came in and he started yelling at my mom cause she asked him where he had been. Like she didn't know. Like she couldn't tell. I wasn't even in the same room as them and I could smell the alcohol. I sat there listening to them and then it sounded like something bumped against the wall and I knew he had hit her and I tried to ignore it, to just sit there and pretend like it wasn't happening… but I couldn't. So I went out into the living room and she was leaning against the wall with her hand to her face. I just froze. I wanted to go back into the kitchen but I couldn't move. And then he saw me. And he knew. He knew I had come out to protect her. And… I didn't think he could move that fast. The next thing I knew he was standing in front of me, towering over me like this fucking giant. And he hit me. He hit me so fucking hard I slammed into the doorframe and fell to the floor. Blacked out. When I woke up, my head was pounding. Felt like I had gotten run over by a train. And my mom," he chuckled a little, "my mom was sitting in an armchair sipping a martini and pretending nothing had happened. Only, her hands were shaking so bad, she had spilled half of it down the front of her shirt. Jack was gone. So I got up, and went into the kitchen and got my stuff, and went upstairs. The next morning I stole a bottle of scotch, and met Mikey at his house, and we walked to school and hid out, waited until Deb had gone to work, and went back to his place and got totally shit-faced drunk." He pressed his lips close until they formed a thin, hard line. "And that, as they say, was the beginning of my glorious career."

Justin wiped his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well… Even that touching story is just one dysfunctional moment out of an entire fucking lifetime of dysfunctional moments." He smiled sadly. "Still think I'm worth having?"

"I've seen you at your worst, Brian, and I always come back," Justin said, moving closer to him.

"You think you've seen me at my worst. Believe me, you haven't."

"You can't scare me."

"Maybe you should wise up."

"Maybe you should stop pretending you're the Big Bad Wolf."

"Weren't you even listening to me?"

"That was something your dad did to you. That's different." He stroked Brian's thigh. "You want to scare me, tell me something you've done."

Brian stared at him, then looked away, shaking his head. "There should be at least one person who can look at me and not see all the shit."

"You mean someone you can hide from. Cause you can't hide from Michael, can you? He knows you too well."

"You talk too much."

Justin leaned over and kissed him. "So you've said." 

He laid awake staring into the darkness as Justin slept next to him. His mind turned feverishly over the events of the last few days. He almost laughed at how easy he had thought it would be, throwing one ball away, getting rid of the anger and the hurt, and there they were again, not as strong to be sure, but there nonetheless. So it hadn't been enough. Making peace with that memory hadn't been enough. Being with Mikey hadn't been enough. He still wasn't done. It was like being a kid, playing "Mother, May I". _"Mother says take three baby steps forward." "Mother, may I?" "Yes, you may." Three baby steps. "Mother says take two giant steps and let go of the anger." Two giant steps. "Stop. You didn't say 'Mother, may I?'"_

"I want…" He stopped, horrified that he had spoken. Turned to see if Justin had heard, but the teen was fast asleep, snoring lightly. I just want some rest. But he couldn't have any because he hadn't done everything right, had forgotten to do something, say something, and so he was still stuck here, standing in the middle of his life, wondering how he would ever get to the end, to the finish line before it was too late, and the sun had gone down, and it was time to go in. 

 

For different takes on this episode, read **Rock Solid** by Grey; and **Too Far Forward, Too Far Back** by Katy.


	18. A Fine and Fancy Ramble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian, Justin, and Gus have a perfect day.

Justin hadn't known how to react when Brian called and asked if he wanted to spend the day with Dadda and Sonny Boy. At first he thought maybe Lindz and Mel had stuck Brian with babysitting again and that the proud papa was trying to ditch Gus with him, but when the black jeep pulled up to Deb's there was Gus smiling from the back in his car seat (he'd already begun exercising the considerable charms he had inherited from the Kinney men), and there was Brian smiling from behind the wheel. In the very back of the jeep were all of the baby's accoutrements: stroller, diaper bag, a cooler for his formula and juice, and a host of assorted toys to be called upon in case he got cranky.

"Where are we going?" Justin asked as he shut the door.

Brian retrieved a sheet of paper from the sun visor overhead and passed it to him, keeping his eyes on the road. "A list of Mommy-approved activities for growing, young minds."

Reading the list, Justin asked incredulously, "The Children's Museum?"

"Yeah, you can cross that one off right now. No fucking way am I going to be stuck in a confined space with about a thousand hyperactive higher-order primates."

"Didn't you do an ad campaign for them?"

Slipping on his sunglasses, Brian replied, "I'll market anything. Advertisers are whores. Remember that."

Justin snorted. "Like I could forget." He turned his attention back to the list. "The park."

"The park we can do."

Flipping the paper over, Justin inquired about list on the other side. "What are these?"

"All the places I'm not supposed to take him."

Justin laughed. "Woody's. Babylon. Bars or clubs in general. The baths." He raised an eyebrow, a habit he had picked up from Brian. "You wouldn't take him to any of these places. Would you?"

"Not until he's at least fifteen," Brian retorted.

"Not fourteen?" referring to Brian's first time.

"I was advanced for my age."

Justin replaced the list behind the visor. "So what's first?"

"Breakfast." Brian peeked at the baby in the rear view mirror. "Isn't that right, Sonny Boy?"

Bypassing the diner entirely, they ate a quiet patisserie far from Liberty Avenue. The counter girl made a huge fuss over Gus and pretended not to notice that Brian and Justin were 'together' and instead exerted her limited amount of charm trying to snare Justin in a conversation. Responding in polite, monosyllabic words he made his escape as soon as he could and joined Brian and the baby at their table over by the window where Gus could see the people walking by outside.

Brian grinned as he sat down. "What is it with you and straight girls?"

"Shut up." Justin took a bite from a huge cinnamon roll.

"It must be because you're so incredibly butch."

Justin mouthed, _Fuck you._

"Not in front of the minor," Brian scolded. Gus gurgled as if he understood what his daddy had said and agreed. Which caused Brian's eyes to light up. Justin smiled. Brian really had beautiful eyes. Sometimes they looked so dark as to be almost black and other times as green as moss. Their color shifted with his moods and today they were their normal hazel shade, only brighter, clearer than they had been in a week. Justin had thought that he would never see Brian happy again, not after his attempts to exorcise the past had failed, but here he was today, cheerful, playing with Gus, laughing. And they were together.

Brian caught him staring and asked, "What? Is there chocolate on my face?" He had been eating an éclair.

Justin shook his head. 

 

Their leisurely breakfast over, next on their agenda was a brisk stroll through the park. Justin envied Brian his longer legs. He seemed to glide without effort over the uneven, rock-strewn paths. Gus bounced up and down in the stroller giggling or doing what Mel and Lindz had assured them was giggling. After a quick jaunt around the park, Brian slowed down and they meandered until they found an empty bench near enough to the playground so that Sonny Boy would be entertained by the busy children yet far enough away that Dadda wouldn't be irritated. Brian released Gus from the stroller's confines and held him in his arms, pointing out various people and things to him. He gestured at a little girl who seemed to be giving orders to a group of kids. "Future lawyer." As for the little boy who was ignoring her and surreptitiously collecting all the best toys, he predicted, "Future broker in need of a lawyer."

Justin caught hold of one of Gus' flailing hands. "What do you think Gus is gonna be when he grows up?"

"Something requiring a fabulous wardrobe: either President of the United States or a world class gigolo in Monte Carlo---maybe both"

"What about you? What did you want to be?"

Without blinking and eye or seeming the least bit embarrassed he replied, "Undisputed ruler of the universe."

"And you went into advertising?"

"Exactly." He lifted Gus in the air and jiggled him until the baby giggled again. "I get to tell people what they want, what they need, how to feel, and what to do." He turned and caught Justin's slightly disapproving look. "I know, it's not as noble as being an artist, but it's what I'm good at." He winked at Gus. "Plus I get to wear fabulous clothes."

Justin had to agree. At that moment, dressed for a casual day out, Brian had on a stunning, new, knee-length, black leather frock coat, a sleek, grey wool and silk blend sweater, and a pair of slim-fit black trousers with thin grey pinstripes. He looked like he had just stepped out of an issue of GQ. The entire ensemble accentuated his slenderness yet, instead of making him look fey, it emphasized his lean strength. No one would ever mistake him for just another pretty boy. He radiated subtle power, combining beauty with might.

As if he had been privy to some of Justin's thoughts, Brian commented, "Nice shirt."

So surprised was he by Brian's remark that Justin had to look down to see what he was wearing. It was his white, lycra Fcuk shirt. "Would the real Brian Kinney please stand up?" he asked.

"What?" Brian shifted Gus on his lap. "You can't take a compliment?"

"You've seen me in this shirt like thirty times or more."

"So? It's a nice shirt."

"And you never said a word," continued Justin.

"Well, I'm saying it now," replied Brian. He took a last look around the park. "All right. Enough of the fuckin' Green Acres motif. Let's go somewhere fun." He strapped Gus back into his stroller and stood.

"Where?" asked Justin, sure that their destination was probably on the mommies' list of forbidden places.

"The zoo." Justin's mouth feel open. Brian reached over and pushed up on his chin. "Come on, Junior. Be good and you can go into the petting zoo and do some heavy duty stroking."

Still in shock, Justin followed father and son, trying to match the taller man's strides. "Have you ever been to the zoo?"

In the car he continued his line of questioning. "You do realize that there are going to be hordes of screaming kids there and their parents?"

Pursing his lips, Brian nodded. "I promise I won't kill anyone." And then he raised an eyebrow. "Okay, at least not everyone." 

 

Even if he lived to be a hundred, Justin thought he would never forget the sight of Brian Kinney lifting Gus to look at the sea lions swimming past the viewing window in the Kids Kingdom. Or singing to the orangutans in the Tropical Forest complex while Justin and Gus laughed: _"The monkeys stand for honesty,/ Giraffes are insincere,/ And elephants are kindly but they're dumb./ Orangutans are skeptical/ Of changes in their cages,/ And the zookeeper is very fond of rum…"_ Waiting for fifteen minutes in Cheetah Valley for the big cats to appear and then watching them for twenty minutes, mesmerized by their grace and strength, their agility, their pride. Maybe, thought Justin, he recognized a kinship with them. It was like he was a different person, one that Justin had only glimpsed from time to time. To hear him laughing with Gus, to see him smile openly, it was worth every tear he had ever shed because of Brian.

Glancing over at Justin, Gus tucked under his chin, Brian gestured towards the door. The baby had begun to get fussy so Brian had given him his pacifier in hopes that he would fall asleep. It had worked.

Walking back to the car, Justin said, "That was the best day."

"Not over yet," promised Brian.

They found a sleepy café not far from the zoo where the patrons all spoke in hushed tones. Brian fully expected Gus to wake up at any minute and begin crying for his lunch so he asked the waitress to heat his bottle, which she did, not without giving him the twice over in hopes of piquing his interest.

Justin smirked. "How butch," he declared. To his surprise Brian laughed softly before turning his attention to the menu. He noticed that Brian continued to smile as he perused the restaurant's offerings and he wanted to run his fingers over Brian's lips, to imprint the feel of his smile on his skin.

During lunch they talked, or rather he talked. Brian asked him about Daphne and his parents and really seemed to listen to him, saying very little but asking a couple of astute questions that let Justin know that he had been paying attention. And, miracle of miracles, not once did he catch Brian cruising another guy. Not that any real hotties had come in who could give Justin any serious competition, but still, it was nothing short of miraculous. Unused to having Brian's complete attention, he got a little flustered and mixed up his words once or twice, but instead of ridiculing him or smirking in that superior manner that he used with lesser beings, Brian just smiled gently and waited for Justin to straighten himself out again. Throughout lunch Justin tried to put his finger on just what it was, what was different about Brian, and then it came to him: he seemed at peace. 

 

They returned Gus to two very anxious and relieved mommies that afternoon.

As Lindz put the baby down on the couch, Mel asked Justin, "So what did you guys do?" as if he would squeal on Brian.

"We went to breakfast, and then… to the park, and the zoo---"

"You went to the zoo?" she asked interrupting his recitation.

"Yeah."

She exchanged an astonished look with Lindz. "And what inspired this parenting miracle?"

Brian piped up from the chair he habitually occupied whenever he came over, "I don't want my kid to grow up a fucking moron. He should know the difference between a howler monkey and a gibbon."

Both Lindz and Mel looked as if they had just been handed proof that extra terrestrials existed. Justin knew exactly how they felt, he had felt that way the entire day.

Walking out to the car Brian asked, "What do you want to do?"

Justin paused with the door to the jeep open in his hands. "Take a nap?" 

 

While most people wouldn't consider having sex for forty-five minutes taking a nap, Justin had discovered upon arriving at the loft that he had just enough energy left for a quick one, and then after they got started he realized that there was no such thing, especially not after lusting for Brian all day. They eventually collapsed, exhausted from fucking and from the day's activities, and then they did take a nap and would have slept on except that Michael called around five thirty to see if Brian was coming to Woody's or Babylon that evening. Keeping his face neutral, Justin waited for Brian to make plans to meet the guys and was stunned to hear him refuse. "Other plans," he explained. Listened to something Michael said and replied, "Yeah." Hung up. Fighting to contain his joy, Justin caught his bottom lip between his teeth and kept quiet. "Where should we eat?" Brian asked, well aware that Justin couldn't have been more pleased.

The teen shrugged. "I dunno."

Brian threw back the covers and tugged on Justin's arm. "You can think about it in the shower."

Watching Brian's ass as the man entered the bathroom ahead of him, Justin thought, Don't bet on it.

So they ended up eating in and ordering Thai. Feasting on gai sate, grilled marinated chicken with a peanut dipping sauce; po taak, a soup made from prawns, salmon, and calamari in a chili and lime and lemongrass broth; a cucumber salad; and lamb curry. For dessert they had coconut crème brule, Justin eating most of it since Brian claimed to be stuffed. Looking at his slender frame, Justin found it hard to believe that Brian worried about getting fat, but he did. Go figure. Anyway, that just meant more for him.

After finishing the crème brule, they cleared away the trash and dishes---Brian was fastidious in keeping his loft neat and clean. Of course, if you had as many visitors as Brian did you probably needed to be extra sensitive to how the place looked. Although lately Justin had been spending a great deal of time with Brian at his loft so unless he was bringing tricks home at lunchtime, the door count had dropped significantly. Still, he didn't doubt that Brian continued to do guys at work, at Babylon, at the cleaners, at the gym… the list went on and on. But he was definitely slowing down.

"Dance with me," Justin suggested as Brian loaded the last of the dishes. He showed signs of grumbling so Justin quickly added, "Just one. A slow dance. Please."

Brian relented. "Put something on." He followed his partner to the living room and waited while Justin put on a CD and found the right track. He recognized the piece as soon as the first strain of the song became audible. "Painted Face" by The Aloof. Not exactly appropriate for waltzing but too slow for an all out rhythmic assault. It was just right, the music building in intensity until their hearts seemed to beat in time with it. They moved slowly, pressed close together, arms around waists and shoulders until, seduced by the music, Brian tightened his hold on Justin and took it to the next level. One moment they were dancing and the next they were kissing as well. And then Brian backed Justin up against the sofa and the teen exposed his neck to Brian's feverish kisses… and he was up on the sofa, thighs open, raising Brian's sweater to get to his flesh, and Brian was pulling his pants down over his hips…

That was it, that… spot. Shivering, Justin swung his hips back and forth, forcing Brian's cock to rub against that spot, that spot, that--- He moaned and fanned his fingers over his belly and chest. Beneath him, Brian drank in his beauty like a man dying of thirst. Eyes wide open, he traced the lines of his lover's body, and where his eyes failed, he used his hands, fingers trailing down his spine and over his luscious ass.

Justin lay with his head on Brian's chest, very nearly purring as the older man stroked his hair. He kissed Brian's smooth chest. "This was nice. This day, I mean." He looked up to see the raised eyebrow he had expected. "And this too."

"I was beginning to think you were faking those moans."

"Like this?" asked Justin as he straddled Brian's hips, writhing about, hands running over his body, and began to moan deep in his throat.

Brian pulled him down and kissed him hard, kissed him until Justin began to moan into his mouth and this time they both knew it was entirely genuine. Giving him a nip on the bottom lip, Brian released him and they settled down once more.

"Why today?" Justin asked, his tone turned serious and beneath his question was another question, _What does this mean?_

"Why not?"

Justin reflected upon Brian's answer and decided he wouldn't get a better one even if he pestered him for a week, so he let it go. "I'm glad you invited me to come along."

After a moment, Brian said, "Me, too. Gus likes you."

He smiled, reading between the lines: _Gus likes you and so do I._ Out loud he said, "Yeah, right. He doesn't even notice anyone else when his daddy's around." Brian grinned. He debated whether or not to say anything else and then, being Justin, decided to forge ahead. "Neither do I," he added. He gave Brian a final kiss upon the mouth and turned over. " 'Night." As he closed his eyes, he felt Brian's lips on his shoulder, planting a light kiss, and then the bed shifted as he turned over onto his side. Justin's smile continued to shine like a beacon in the darkness long after the bedside lamp had been doused. No matter what happened tomorrow, he had today, and today had been perfect, his perfect day.

Lyrics for "At the Zoo" by P. Simon, © 1968.


	19. Toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin and Brian have a playdate; you'll never look at kiddie toys again in the same way!

Recognizing the handwriting immediately, Deb was sorely tempted to toss the envelope away but she knew, eventually, Brian would ask Justin why he hadn't responded since he knew wild horses couldn't keep his loyal subject away if he'd received one of His Majesty's summons. So she tucked it in with the other mail and heaped it all on the kitchen table. At least Brian couldn't accuse her of deliberately losing the letter. It wouldn't be her fault if Justin didn't bother to check the mail.

Of course, she'd forgotten about Vic. And, of course, Vic went through the mail and saw the letter addressed to Justin and carried it upstairs and laid it on the teenager's pillow. So much for best laid plans.

Justin came home around seven after his shift at the diner and found the envelope with his name on the outside written in magic marker it looked like. There was no stamp so Brian must have delivered it himself. He tore it open and laughed. Inside was a handwritten card.

 

Guess he'd better call Daphne and reschedule their movie night. As he bounced downstairs he wondered if he should bring any toys for their date, then figured Brian had enough for the both of them. 

 

He expected Justin any minute now and he was really in no mood to play anymore. Twice he'd been in the process of dialing Justin's cellphone number and canceling and both times he changed his mind. Maybe playing with Justin was what he needed to snap him out of the foul mood he was in, had been in all day thanks to that asshole Ryder. Christ! He was never going to let him forget the Kip Thomas affair. Well, fuck 'em he decided. Grinned. Justin was in for a treat tonight. Then, thinking about the teenager's round, plump ass, he amended his thoughts. They both were in for a treat.

At seven thirty sharp, Justin pushed open the door. Shrugged off his jacket and dropped it and his backpack by the chaise lounge. Brian came from inside his bedroom wearing a pair of old jeans and his black tank top. As usual, the top button on his jeans was undone. Justin loved it when he did that because sometimes his shirt would ride up exposing an inch or two of flesh and tuffs of pubic hair. Not that Justin hadn't seen both his bare flesh and his pubic hair in abundance but being teased like that was very enticing. "Hey."

Brian crossed to the fridge and took out a bottle of water. Paused. "You want anything?"

Grinning, Justin replied, "What I want, you don't have in there."

Brian's eyebrow lifted. "Someone's feeling cocky tonight."

"That's cause I'm excited." He waited a beat. "About our date," he said, putting emphasis on the word 'date.'

"It's not a real date, it's a **play** date," Brian explained. "You know? Make-believe? Pretend?"

Justin joined Brian in the kitchen and tugged on his shirt, raising it up himself and rubbing his fingers over the man's abdomen. "I don't care." He smiled, hand dipping beneath the waistband of Brian's jeans, fingers combing through tufts of brown hair.

Taking Justin's hand from inside his jeans, Brian grabbed his wrist and tugged him towards the living room. Let go and picked up something from off the sofa. Tossed it to Justin.

The teenager's eyes widened. "A Powerpuff Girls Explosion Backpack?" Brian said nothing, only took another swig of water. "I didn't know you liked the Powerpuff Girls."

Brian pushed Justin in the middle of his back and climbed over the back of the sofa. Plopped down. "I don't. You do. Or, at least, I remember you babbling on about them during our unfortunate incarceration together." It was Justin's turn to push him. "Doesn't play well with others," Brian declared. "Maybe I should rethink this playdate."

Leaning over the back of the sofa, Justin kissed Brian on the neck. "I promise I'll be good."

"In that case, you might as well go now," he said and he pulled the teenager over onto his lap and kissed him hard. Playfully, he caught Justin's lower lip between his teeth and ran his tongue over the moist flesh. Released his lip and went about trying to capture the boy's darting tongue. After a few minutes of that, he raised his head. "Open the backpack."

A little dazed, Justin reached behind the sofa and drew the backpack over onto his lap. As he removed each item, he tossed it onto the cushion. "Twinkies. Pop Tarts. Powerpuff Girl glitter stickers… A hand puppet." He glanced at Brian but the man's face remained blank. "A jump rope. Water gun. Stackable rings?" The last was a plastic column with a rounded top and a curved base on which hung three multicolored plastic rings of varying circumference. He remembered Molly having one when she was a toddler. Still looking for dildos and plugs, Justin turned the backpack upside down and shook it. "That's it?"

"Oh ye of little faith." Pause. "And imagination."

Lips curled in a smile that hinted at mischief, Justin toyed with the jump rope whose function he'd guessed the moment he removed it from the backpack. "How about I tie you up for a change?"

How long had they been… seeing each other? And Justin still hadn't learned that there was nothing Brian wouldn't do in the pursuit of pleasure. "Fine." Then as Justin's smile widened, he said, "Provided you use these," and he picked up the glitter stickers, "first."

His time with Brian had not been wasted. Justin accepted the proffered stickers and the challenge. "Deal." Stood and held out his hand. Pulled Brian from the sofa. Then, jump rope and stickers in hand, he practically skipped to the bedroom.

Brian followed the swishing movement of his hips with lust in his eyes and a leer on his face.

He stood still as Justin slowly removed every stitch of his clothing, lifting arms and legs when told to, until he was completely naked, which took a while as the teen seemed particularly entranced by him tonight. Justin devoured him with his eyes, savoring every inch of exposed flesh, hands traveling lightly over his lover's body. Following further orders, Brian laid down upon the bed and stretched his arms above his head.

Justin tied his wrists together. "Too tight?" he asked, fingers lingering on Brian's skin.

"Uh-uh." Justin's hands remained wrapped around Brian's. "You're trembling." He looked up into Justin's face. "We don't have to do this."

And, in truth, Justin was a little scared. He had learned what being submissive revealed about his needs, his desires, and he was a little apprehensive to discover what dominating Brian might uncover about his personality. One of Brian's less attractive traits was his need to control everything and everyone around him. When it was employed in the service of pleasure, his drive to control was bearable, even desirable; but when applied to other situations, it became a measureless cavern in which his common sense sometimes wandered and was lost. Justin had no desire to emulate him in that particular matter. Wearing his shirts was one thing, taking on his not so appealing character traits was another. As much as Justin loved Brian, he didn't think he'd want to change, even if there was a chance it might guarantee him Brian's affection. Besides, there had to be some reason Brian kept letting him hang around, kept letting him into his bed, something about him that the man found alluring. After all, he could have almost any man he wanted, had as many as he wanted, and yet he continued to share his body and his life with Justin.

"You all right?" Brian asked, jerking him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah."

"The night's not getting any younger."

Justin swallowed a retort.

"Don't even think about saying it."

The teen tugged on the rope binding Brian's wrists. "And what are you gonna do about it if I do?"

Surprised by Justin's aggressive posturing, Brian raised an eyebrow and decided to let it pass.

Intending to continue the game, Justin paused, appetite suddenly whetted by the sight of a naked, bound Brian. Sensing the teen's arousal, the man closed his eyes, allowing Justin the leisure to study him. It was like looking at a caged animal, some big cat, a cheetah maybe… sleek and powerful… long legs… fine-featured. Justin caught his breath, spread his hand over Brian's belly.

Brian opened his eyes. "The stickers…"

Fuck. He'd forgotten. The price of his pleasure. He quickly stripped and tore open the package, mind racing. Then he smiled. "I'm going to ask you five questions and each time you get one right, I'll put a sticker somewhere on your body, and when I'm done, I can do whatever I want to each of those places."

"For how long?" asked Brian, intrigued.

"As long as I want."

Before agreeing, Brian inquired further, "What kinds of questions?"

Grinning, Justin replied, "Questions about me. See if you were paying attention."

 _Shit_ , thought Brian, _I couldn't even fuckin' remember his name when we first met. I hope these are easy questions._ But out loud he said casually, "Fire away."

"What's my sister's name?"

Although his face remained impassive, his body tensed. His sister? He'd like to forget his own. Cunt. Cunt Claire, that's what he used to call her and Mikey would give him lecture #47 about the importance of family. Justin's sister's name? He racked his brains trying to remember Justin mentioning her. Remembered… Justin on the telephone. Always. The night Gus got sick and they took him to the hospital. Justin was talking to his mom. Telling her he couldn't come back home. _"Give____a kiss for me."_ Give who? Ah… Mary? No. Carrie? No. Collie. That's a dog. Molly. "Molly!" he said triumphantly.

Shocked, Justin removed a sticker from the card and put the sticker over Brian's navel and pressed it so that it adhered to his skin. The way it sparkled seemed tawdry somehow. He wondered how Brian would look with a navel ring or a jewel in his belly button. Sexy as hell.

"Next question," said Brian, cocky as hell now that he'd gotten one right.

"Name one drug I'm allergic to."

"Codeine," replied Brian without hesitation. "That's why I keep it on the top shelf." They both grinned remembering how nervous Justin had been that first night.

Lifting Brian's cock, Justin applied a sticker to the shaft, then smiled at his handiwork. "Pretty."

"Two down, three to go."

Justin ran a finger over Brian's nipple, then tweaked it eliciting a yelp. "Smartass. Okay. A hard one. What song was playing the first time we danced together at Babylon?"

"Pass."

"You didn't even try."

Brian shook his head. "You know how many fucking songs I've heard in Babylon? They all sound the same to me now."

"Fine," declared Justin, a little out of sorts.

"So what was it?"

" 'Let's Hear It for the Boy.' "

Brian smiled. "Appropriate."

"Next question," Justin said, not smiling in return.

Aware of the change in Justin's attitude, Brian kept quiet. Maybe he could redeem himself with the next question."

"What's my dad's name?"

"Too easy." But Justin refused to change his mind, convinced that Brian didn't know. So Brian answered quickly and peevishly, "Craig."

A small smile appeared. He held up the third sticker. Placed it in the hollow of Brian's throat, careful not to press down too hard. "Last question," he whispered, face just inches from Brian's. "What brand tennis shoe do I wear?"

Closing his eyes, Brian tried to see one of Justin's sneakers in his mind. Although he was in advertising, he didn't pay attention to brand names unless he was doing the ad for he product or buying something for himself. What brand? Okay, there was Adidas, Nike, Reeboks, K-Swiss, Sketchers-No… Adidas or Nike. He made a decision. "Nike."

Again, Justin smiled. He had gotten it right. Triumphantly, he placed the last sticker along Brian's inner thigh.

"So. Would you consider me an expert?"

"Knowledgeable," was all Justin was willing to give him.

"Well…?" said Brian.

Justin rolled Brian over onto his hip and smacked his buttock sharply. "I'm in control. Remember?" Then he almost burst out laughing. The look on Brian's face was priceless. Stunned, to say the least. And then his hazel eyes glittered and Justin knew Brian was completely turned on by the way things were proceeding. "So no talking, and no trying to tell me what to do. Got it?" Brian pressed his lips tightly together. "Good." He crawled up Brian's body, removed the sticker from his neck, and lowered his head to the man's exposed throat. Kissed the soft flesh gently. Nuzzled beneath his ear. "If I were a vampire," he said moving down Brian's neck, "I would bite you and drink your blood." He licked along a muscle and then concentrated his efforts in one spot. "God," he whispered, "licking your neck is like licking your cock." He grazed Brian's flesh with his teeth, felt his lover tense. Did it again, only this time applied more force, caught a bit of meat between his teeth and sucked on it until the skin reddened. "Can you imagine me chewing on your cock the way I chew on your neck?" He nibbled the skin all along the length of Brian's neck, ending his journey back in the hollow of his throat. "Cutting your meat with my teeth and sipping the blood from your dick, from all those tiny holes." He reached down and ran his fingers along Brian's belly stopping just short of his cock, content to circle the man's navel instead. "Making you come." He sucked on the flesh of Brian's throat while his fingers continued to circle his belly button. He could feel Brian's muscles jerking. Raising his head, he looked down at Brian's face, at the need clearly present in his features. Glanced down at his cock, stiffening against his thigh.

Removing the glitter sticker from Brian's belly button, he dipped his finger into the depression and Brian arched his back. "Yeah…" breathed Justin. He climbed over Brian's body so that his knees were on either side of his chest, then let a glob of spit drop into his navel. Using a bit of the bedspread, Justin cleaned out the area. Then, he licked his way down his torso until his tongue rested on the edge of the hollow. He caught the rim between his teeth and tugged. Brian gasped. He licked the offended flesh. Allowed his tongue to slide inside the hole. Over and over again, he washed the wrinkled flesh until it shone brighter than the glitter sticker he had removed. Meanwhile, Brian was tortured not only with the sensation of Justin's tongue in his belly button, but also with the sight of Justin's asshole and cock and balls over his head.

And then the teen moved on, past Brian's dick to his thighs. Spreading them open, he removed the third sticker and went to work on the tender, smooth flesh. As he licked and kissed Brian's thighs, Justin lowered his hips so that his cock and balls rested on Brian's belly. Up and down, his mouth moved from knee to groin without once touching Brian's dick or sac, driving him crazy.

In an instant Justin moved off of Brian, turned around, and spread the man's legs open wider, attacked his inner thighs with renewed purpose, moving closer and closer to the neglected area of his crotch until Brian's dick began to twitch whenever the teen seemed to be heading in that direction. Justin raised up and wrapped his fingers around his own cock. Stroked it slowly, feeling it stiffen inside his hand. Staring into Brian's eyes, seeing the desire there, the frustration. He straddled Brian's hips and continued to pull on his meat, his eyes never leaving Brian's face, yet aware of Brian's erection growing beneath him. Then, he caught his cock about mid-shaft and pointed the head towards Brian's navel. Pumped his hips. The head dipped inside, brushing against the furrowed walls. It felt incredible. He rubbed the tip against the sides of Brian's navel again. It felt like brushing up against his lover's asshole. Tight. Impenetrable. He moaned and began fucking it in earnest, his hand sliding up and down the shaft in time to his thrusts.

Brian thought he would explode. Each time Justin's dick head made a foray into his navel, a pulse went through his cock, as if his belly button and his balls were somehow connected.

Justin lifted his dick from Brian's navel and a line of precum stretched from the cavity to the tip of his cock. Moving forward, he didn't stop until his cock rested in the hollow of Brian's throat. Then, slowly, he began rubbing his dick along the man's neck, kissing him softly with the tiny lips of his hole. Leaving little wet spots where the tip had made contact. Head falling forward, Justin gave a cry and came. A spurt of cum struck the underside of Brian's chin and slid back down his throat. Again Justin jerked and released another stream of spunk. And another. And another. He gasped and continued to pump his dick with his hand, his fist covered with the last few drops of his load.

Brian's throat and chin were splattered with cum, the pale liquid streaking his flesh like paint.

When the strength to move returned to his legs, Justin went to the kitchen and wet a paper towel to clean up himself and Brian. On the way back he made a detour, retrieved the backpack and its contents from the sofa. After removing all traces of his climax from their bodies, he took out two more items from the pack: the packet of Twinkies and the hand puppet.

"Justin…" began Brian and, when he had the teen's attention, he said, "untie my hands. My arms are getting tired."

Justin untied one hand and then said, "Different position. Sit up." Brian sat up, willing to go along with the game a little longer, and Justin tied his hands behind his back. Spread Brian's legs and knelt between them. Although his cock was still hard, it had softened from its previous state, having been neglected. Now Justin intended to remedy that. Smiling slyly, he slipped on the hand puppet and held it up to Brian's face. "Meet my friend, Mr. Gator. Mr. Gator, Brian; Brian, Mr. Gator. Mr. Gator's lonely." He stroked Brian's face. "He's looking for his best friend: Mr. Snake." Mr. Gator wandered down Brian's chest. "He and Mr. Snake have such good times together. You wouldn't believe it," he said, Mr. Gator sliding around his waist to his back. "And he's so sad because Mr. Snake has gone into hiding." He ran his hand up Brian's back, over his tied hands, up between his shoulder blades. "He hasn't seen him in so long. I wonder where he could be?" Back down again. Back around. Down the torso. Then Justin held Mr. Gator up and addressed the puppet. "Mr. Gator, I think I see him. I think I see Mr. Snake." He pointed Mr. Gator towards Brian's dick. "Is that him? Is it, Mr. Gator?" And Mr. Gator opened his mouth wide. "I think it is. Only one way to tell." His eyes fixed on Brian's, Justin said, "Go see if he'll play."

Brian's back arched as Justin's hand with the soft, felt puppet closed around the head of his cock. The zig-zag pattern of the puppet's teeth sent chills up his spine. "Oh, yeah," whispered Justin, "that's him all right. That's Mr. Snake." And Justin, removing the sticker first, stroked Brian's dick with the hand puppet until it was hard, the veins standing out in the shaft, the head blossoming with each stroke. Then he pulled his hand away, addressed the puppet. "Mr. Gator, how rude. You haven't offered Mr. Snake anything to eat and I bet he's hungry. Let's see what we can find." Taking off the puppet, Justin tore open the package of Twinkies. "I've heard he's fond of these," he said. He bit off the end. Chewed and swallowed. "Not bad. Let's see what Mr. Snake says."

Brian's eyes widened as the teen slid the Twinkie over his cock. He could feel the creamy filling spreading over the head and then the shaft as Justin lowered the Twinkie as far as it could go. Then he raised it. Brian inhaled, his head spinning. Lowered it. The edges were beginning to split as the fit was tight, but Justin continued to work the Twinkie on his lover's cock as long as he could. And when it was no longer possible to continue with the Twinkie, he discarded it. Remained kneeling between Brian's thighs, staring at the cream-covered cock. Brian moaned, wanting Justin to finish him off, but the teen made no motion to do so. "Fuck," gasped Brian, having realized that Justin wasn't going to bring him any relief, at least not yet.

Justin reached for the bag. "There's still some goodies left. Wouldn't want to leave anything out." He peeped inside, then grinned. Standing, he maneuvered Brian onto his stomach, his hands still tied behind his back. Then, with his actions out of Brian's sight lines, Justin got a tube of lube from the night stand and popped the plug on the water gun from the backpack. He squeezed until the tube was empty and the gun was filled.

"What are you doing?" Brian asked, irritated by the delay and by the fact that he had gotten Twinkie cream on his duvet, and got another pop on the butt for his troubles. Before he could complain, however, Justin had spread his cheeks and was licking at his hole, erasing all complaints from his mind. When Brian's hole glistened, Justin pulled away and picked up the water gun. Squeezed the trigger so that lube oozed out of the tip. He spread the lube over the end of the gun, Then eased it into Brian's ass. Brian groaned as the tip moved through the first tight ring of muscle guarding his insides. Justin paused and then pushed through the second and stopped, letting Brian adjust to the invasion. Then, Brian's breathing having returned to normal, Justin pulled the trigger and lubed his lover's hole. Withdrawing the water gun, Justin continued to pump. As the barrel popped free, lube ran down Brian's thigh.

Justin took out the next to the last item from the backpack, the stackable rings. Removing the rings from the column upon they were arranged, Justin lubed the plastic pole until it shone. Then he tugged on Brian's leg. "Come on. Get down on your knees." He helped Brian kneel upon the floor. If he was alarmed by what the teenager proposed, Brian didn't show it. Justin held up the largest ring. "Too big." Then the smallest. "Too small." Then the middle ring. "Just right." Enough of the cream filling remained that it provided excellent lubrication for the makeshift cockring. Justin slid it down over Brian's dick until it rested snug behind his balls. He placed the base of the toy on the floor below Brian's buttocks and held onto the base. "I'm waiting."

Brian held his breath and lowered his hips until the round top of the toy pressed against his hole. Taking another deep breath, he slowly pushed downwards. His hole stretched around the bulbous top and he felt tears spring to his eyes. But he continued to apply pressure until the tip had passed through his sphincter muscles and rested firmly inside him. His chest rose and fell heavily as he fought to relax. Then, obeying some internal signal, he began to descend once more, taking another inch of the toy inside him. Justin maintained a firm grip on the base, watching as Brian's hole moved close and closer to the bottom. Finally, Brian had taken all of the column inside him. The skin of his ass rested against Justin's knuckles. Justin raised up and whispered against Brian's neck, "Ride it." And Brian did. The muscles in his thighs flexed as he worked his ass up and down the plastic pole. The round head filled him to capacity and he moaned constantly as he fucked himself with the multicolored toy. Moving to the side of Brian, Justin kept one hand on the base of the toy and wrapped the other around Brian's cock, jacking him roughly, knowing that Brian was close to blowing his load. His balls held tight against his dick by the plastic ring, Brian's meat had filled with blood so that the veins were distended. Justin ran his fingertip over the apex of his cock and was rewarded with a bead of precum. Giving the shaft a few more tugs, Justin released Brian's hands and knelt behind him, took up the toy and began working it against his ass, hardly sliding it out, rough fucking Brian's hole with it. Brian barely got one hand around his cock before he exploded. His asshole tightened around the toy and then his muscles tried to push it out as cum spurted from his cock, but Justin held it firm against his hole, while he continued to ejaculate. As the last few drops splattered the floor, Justin released the toy and let it slide free. Brian collapsed against the platform of the bed, exhausted.

Hard from the moment he had slid the Twinkie over Brian's dick, Justin tugged on his own meat until he came again, his spunk dotting Brian's thighs and legs with cream. 

 

They rested a bit and then almost crawled into the bathroom. Justin laughed when he saw what awaited them. Brian had set-up a medium-sized wading pool on top of a blanket. The water level was shallow. Lying next to the tub was a sponge shaped like a hand and four containers of paint. Saying nothing, Brian climbed into the pool and sat cross-legged. As Justin got in, he cautioned him, "I wouldn't lean back." Justin reached over the edge and picked up the sponge glove and one of the containers. "What's this?"

"And you call yourself an artist."

"What am I supposed to paint?"

" 'Not too bright though,' " said Brian, quoting one of his favorite movies, _The Matrix_.

Grinning, Justin opened each of the containers and poured a bit of paint into the hollowed-out cavities of the glove. Crawled over to Brian who opened his legs in welcome. Justin knelt between his thighs and said, "Here, hold this." Brian held the glove and Justin, on a whim, leaned over and kissed him. The kiss went on for some time, Justin loving the feel of Brian's mouth against his, of Brian's tongue seeking out his tongue. Drawing away finally, he dipped his fingers into the paint and wrote upon Brian's face, 'Perfect,' P-E-R on one cheek, F on his nose, and E-C-T on the other cheek. Kissed him again. Then drew two dots on his neck, like teeth holes. A heart over his heart with the name, 'Justin' on the inside. Brian said nothing, remained still like a proper canvas. Reaching his belly, Justin wrote, 'Mine' upon his stomach with an arrow pointing downwards towards Brian's cock. He lifted the organ in question and painted the tip yellow, the rest of the head bright blue. Drew red stripes along the shaft. It stirred in his hands. He dipped his hand into the paint and wrote again on Brian's belly, this time the word was 'Eager.' Inspired, he wrote other words upon Brian's chest and torso. 'Hungry.' 'Excited.' Brian got up on his knees and turned so that Justin could draw upon his back. Spreading paint over his palms, Justin cupped Brian's buttocks, leaving his handprints upon his flesh. Between his shoulder blades he drew a winged serpent. He sketched a rose in the hollow at the base of his spine and drew a long, green stem which disappeared between Brian's cheeks. Thinking of the luscious rose hidden there, he kissed the back of Brian's neck, and, aroused, brushed his cock against his partner's thigh.

Brian, his own dick growing harder by the minute, dropped the sponge glove in the water and stood. Helped Justin from the pool and into the shower. They hastily washed the paint from his skin and from Justin's hands and stumbled out again, mouths glued to one another. Justin grabbed a towel as Brian lifted him and carried him into the bedroom. Time to play again. Least they had a box of Pop Tarts and one Twinkie left to fortify them for the long night ahead. Leave it to Brian to think of everything.


	20. Fairy Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian falls ill while he and Justin are babysitting so Justin tells Gus the story of Prince Sunshine and Prince Charming/Alarming to keep them both occupied.   
> (Note: This one's for Colleen, who wanted a 'totally Justin story.')

Lindsay and Melanie bustled around putting the finishing touches on their make-up and clothes all the while spitting out bits of last-minute instructions to Justin who sat playing with Gus in their bedroom. Passing by to grab her pump, Melanie kissed him on the cheek. "You're an angel for doing this on such short notice."

Not to be outdone, Lindsay kissed him on the other cheek. "We haven't been out to dinner in ages."

"We'd get to go out more often if we could trust Brian."

Unable to let her get away with even the tiniest slight against Brian, Justin said in his defense, "Brian loves Gus. He'd never let anything happen to him."

Mel paused with her shoe in her hand. "You're right. I'm sorry. Old habits," she offered as an excuse.

From downstairs came the sound of someone knocking at the door. Justin stood with the baby in his arms. "I'll get it. Come on, Gus, let's see who's it is." Before he was completely down the stairs he knew it was Brian. It was a feeling he got whenever he was near him. Maybe it was some kind of pheromone. All he knew was that they were connected somehow. So, he was not surprised at all to find Brian waiting to be let in. "Hey."

Brian didn't seem surprised either to see him. "How much are they paying you per hour?"

" I'd do it for free." He handed Gus to his Dadda. He loved seeing Brian with the baby, it just seemed natural. Brian had such strong hands and yet he never seemed gentler than when he was holding his son.

Just then the two women appeared. "Bri," called Lindz, eyes lighting up. Justin didn't think she was glad to see him because of the visit alone. True enough, she pecked him on the cheek and asked, "What are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing. That's why I'm here."

"Feel like babysitting?"

Brian glanced at Justin. "Not getting your money's worth?"

"I mean," she explained, "all night." Mel looked inquiringly at her. "We're having dinner at an inn outside of town and it'd be nice to stay overnight..?" she explained.

Putting up no resistance at all, Brian agreed. "Sure. Pack his bag- bags- and I'll take him to my place." Gave Justin a look. "Both of them." 

 

Justin carried the baby's bassinet into the loft and placed it in the bedroom while Brian settled Gus down on top of the dining table. He noticed that Brian looked a little pale but put it down to the lighting. Only, when he came back, Brian was sitting with his head bowed. Laying a hand on his shoulder, Justin asked, "You feel okay?"

"Headache," he murmured.

Without being asked, Justin got two Tylenol from the medicine cabinet and poured Brian a glass of water, carried it to him. "Here."

"Thanks."

Although he didn't think it was likely, it was always good to check with Brian since they hadn't spent last night or today together. "Hangover?"

"No," he whispered, rubbing his temples. Pinched the skin between his eyes. "I just feel a little run-down, that's all."

Justin let his hand brush against Brian's neck as he moved to sit down across from him. "You work too hard."

Reaching in to tickle Gus, who had begun to pout at being neglected, Brian replied, "Babies are expensive." Gus smiled and gurgled, eyes fixed on his daddy.

"Why don't you lie down? I can watch Gus. I was going to anyway," he explained in case Brian decided to protest. But he didn't.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Just for a few minutes."

Justin watched as he climbed the steps to the bedroom and dropped off his jacket and pushed off his shoes, each movement performed with a weariness that seemed bone deep. He wanted to go to him and kiss him and make it better but figured what Brian really needed was to get some rest. You couldn't work ten- and twelve-hour days and then party half the night away without it catching up to you eventually. And, as much as he hated being reminded of it, Brian wasn't getting any younger. Not that he cared. Brian could be a hundred and he'd still be the hottest guy Justin had ever met or could ever imagine meeting. He glimpsed Brian through the glass wall drawing back the covers and slipping beneath the sheet. Good. An hour nap was probably all he needed. 

 

Gus woke from his nap fussy and wet. Justin changed him and then gave him some warm formula- having tested it first on the back of his hand- that was one lesson he'd never forget. As he fed Gus, he studied the baby's face. He really was starting to look more and more like Brian. He had his daddy's hazel eyes and lips for sure. Lucky baby. Not that Lindsay wasn't pretty too. Gus had her nose, which was probably a good thing. Two identical Brian Kinneys in the world would be one too many. As much as he loved the man, he also admitted that Brian could be a handful on the best of days. On the worst of days... God help anybody who got in his way. And as a frequent recipient of the brunt of Brian's anger Justin had learned to shield himself against it by reminding himself that most of the time Brian was really angry with himself or hurt and didn't know how to deal with it. But he was getting better. At admitting that things actually bothered him, hurt him. Before he would have said he didn't care, that it didn't matter, but more and more he had come to trust Justin, letting him see the vulnerability beneath the cold exterior, now that he realized Justin did care, was willing to listen, willing to offer advice and comfort.

Placing Gus in his carrier, Justin peeked in on Brian. He was fast asleep, his brow creased, evidence of the pain he was still experiencing. Just then Gus started to fuss again and he quickly picked him up and carried him to the living room and sat in the chair by the farthest window from the bedroom. "Hey," he said softly, "what's the matter? Huh?" Gus gazed up at him with those big, hazel eyes that were so like his father's. "You miss Lindz and Mel? Or do you miss your Dadda?" He hugged the baby. "I miss him too. Tell you what, how about I tell you a story until he wakes up?" He glanced down at Gus. "A fairy tale. Would you like that?" Gus seemed to be paying attention so Justin figured he'd better work fast to keep it that way. "Okay, a fairy tale. How about "A Tale of Two Princes?" By Justin Taylor." He smiled and Gus giggled. Shifting the baby to the crook of his arm, he began.

"Once upon a time there was a prince named Sunshine who decided to visit the land of Liberty. He was from the land of Suburbia which was not very far away but far enough away that Libertyland seemed like a whole other world. And it was. It was full of fairies and sprites and witches and brownies and a few trolls- there's always a few trolls. Anyway, while he was in Libertyland he met the most beautiful man he had ever seen: Prince Charming. He had brown hair- but not boring, ordinary brown hair- he had hair like autumn leaves, and when he stood in the light, you could see bronze and copper highlights in it; and he had beautiful hazel eyes and perfect lips... In fact, he looked a lot like your Dadda." Justin blushed, it still amazed him that he could be that affected by Brian, by the way he looked and moved and... He smiled. "Back to the story. Prince Sunshine, or the Boy Wonder as his friends called him, was no troll either. He was a total hottie, with the most perfect blond hair that always looked great no matter what, beautiful blue eyes, and a smile that could melt your heart." He turned to the baby. "Kinda like me." Gus reached for Justin's face and the teenager kissed his tiny fingers.

"Now," continued Justin, "this being a fairy tale, Prince Sunshine fell head over heels in love with Prince Charming and Prince Charming took one look at Sunshine and it was love at first sight for him too, although he wasn't as demonstrative about it as Prince Sunshine. That means he didn't like to show his feelings. It's a SAT word. You'll learn all about the SATs later. Or maybe you'll be lucky and you won't have to take them. So, Prince Charming carried Sunshine back to the palace on his black steed, Wrangler. And they had dinner and talked about all kinds of things, about the movies, and art, and music- Prince Sunshine was a fabulous artist and a really good dancer- and they danced until midnight. They would have danced longer but the court musicians were getting tired so they decided to go to bed. Prince Charming and Prince Sunshine that is." He paused and looked Gus straight in the eyes. "Now, I'm about to tell you something that you're too young to know about, but you're too young to understand it anyway. Prince Charming carried Prince Sunshine upstairs to his bedroom. It was the most wonderful place Sunshine had ever seen. There were candles everywhere so that everything was cast in this soft light. Very romantic. But the best part of Prince Charming's room was the bed. It was huge. Four people could have slept in it. At first, Prince Sunshine was a little nervous because even though he was very brave and very smart and knew exactly what he wanted, he was still a little scared. Because Prince Charming was so beautiful, and smart, and fun, and a little dangerous- he was everything Sunshine had ever dreamed of. It was like a dream. And he didn't know what he had done to deserve having all of his dreams come true. They made love all night long and it was wonderful." Justin lost his way among his memories of his first time with Brian. It was everything he had told Daphne and more. He didn't have words to describe how he had felt. Even looking back, knowing what he did, he didn't think he'd change anything, even being a little afraid had been kind of exciting. Not knowing what Brian was going to do to him, not having any idea about the things they could do.

"Prince Sunshine had never felt so alive in all of his life," he told the baby, "and he knew right then that he wanted to stay with Prince Charming forever. Only, he had to go back to his own kingdom. He knew that his parents, the King and Queen of Suburbia, would be worried about him. So the next day he left a note for Prince Charming while he was still sleeping, and returned home." Justin heard Brian stirring. With Gus in his arms he went to see what was wrong. Brian still looked terrible and a glaze of sweat covered his face and body. He had kicked off most of the sheet so that it barely concealed his midsection. "You all right?"

"I feel like shit," muttered Brian.

"Is it just your head?" Brian shook his head but didn't say what else. "Maybe we should go to the Emergency Room."

"I'll be okay," Brian said, not too keen on doctors and hospitals. "I just need to lie down for a while." He tried to raise up to look at the clock and couldn't. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Almost two hours."

"Shit." He wiped his face. "I'll get up."

"No." Justin put Gus down on the bed, far enough from the edge that he wouldn't roll off, and went to Brian.

"I could be contagious," Brian said trying to fend him off. "Take Gus out of here."

"If you are, it's too late." Justin felt Brian's forehead. "You're burning up. Probably got some kind of virus. You want something to drink?"

Brian whispered, "No. I feel nauseous."

"I'm calling Lindsay."

"Don't. She'll just bitch at me for not telling her I was sick and for taking Gus and exposing him to whatever it is I've got."

"You didn't know. So they can't blame you."

He would have laughed but he didn't have the energy. "What fucking fairy tale are you living in?"

"One where I'm the hero. And I get to save-"

"Let me guess: the damsel in distress."

"I don't think anyone's ever called you a damsel."

"Are you sure you can save me?"

Justin leaned over and kissed Brian softly on the lips. "Positive." He picked up the baby. "Come on, Gus, and let your Dadda sleep." And to Brian, "Go to sleep."

Brian closed his eyes hoping the room would stop spinning.

Seating himself once more in the living room, Justin continued his story. "Where were we? Oh. So Sunshine returned to Suburbia and told his parents that he wanted to spend the rest of his life in Libertyland with Prince Charming and they totally freaked. They locked him up in a tower and threw away the key. They even fed him through a slot in the door and he couldn't have any visitors. Now, Sunshine's best friend, Lady Talkalot, noticed that he hadn't been around much lately, so she went looking for him and found out about the tower. Since she didn't have a key, she couldn't get him out by the door, but Lady Talkalot had a magic, flying horse and she flew up to the window of the tower and Sunshine climbed onto her horse's back and they flew off together to Libertyland.

"But things had changed. Prince Charming had changed. When Sunshine went to see him, Prince Charming acted like he didn't even know him and they had spent the most romantic evening together. But Prince Charming just brushed him off. And it didn't help that his best friend, the Wicked Stepmother," and at that Justin curved his fingers into claws and Gus giggled and Justin said it again in a creepy voice, "the Wicked Stepmother didn't like Prince Sunshine. Of course, the reason he didn't like Sunshine was that the Wicked Stepmother used to be a Drama Princess and was in love with Prince Charming but that was a long time ago before he married well and became the Wicked Stepmother. Anyway, Prince Sunshine was really confused because Prince Charming had seemed to really like him before. But he wouldn't give up. He found a place to stay with this crazy PFLAG Fairy Godmother and started showing up everywhere Prince Charming went figuring if Charming saw him everywhere, maybe he'd start to like him again. Yeah, totally pathetic, AND desperate, but it's what he did.

"Now, Prince Charming's parents were always trying to get him to marry some insipid, simpering princess despite the fact that he seemed to prefer boys, so they threw a lot of balls. At which a lot of boys showed up and a few girls-although they mostly danced with each other and not Prince Charming. Prince Charming danced with the boys. Through a friend of a friend Sunshine scored an invitation to the ball. Everyone was there: Prince Charming, the Wicked Stepmother, and all their friends: the Lavender Witch, the Good Butch Witch, Rainbow Sprite, the Little Leather Pig, and the PFLAG Fairy Godmother.

"That evening Prince Charming seemed to be his old self and he danced with Prince Sunshine the way he had on their first date, except that he danced with all these other boys too. But since he seemed to dance more dances with him, Sunshine thought he was in good shape. Then the clock struck midnight and Prince Charming disappeared. Prince Sunshine, deciding that it was a good beginning, got ready to go. Just as he was putting some snacks he had appropriated from the buffet for later into his pocket, he felt something in there. It was a note and it said, 'I'm waiting.' Sure that it came from Prince Charming, Sunshine rushed up to Charming's room only to see that there were about ten guys standing in line on the stairs. And all the guys had notes in their hands. But he still wouldn't believe his Prince Charming could be so cruel, so he waited and pretty soon the door to his true love's room opened and a guy stumbled out half-dressed with a stupid grin on his face. And behind him was Prince Charming. He glanced at the line, smirked, and said, 'Next.' Sunshine didn't know what to do. He couldn't believe that Charming would even physically be able to be with that many guys, and then he heard one of the guys in front of him say that Charming had a magical appendage that could stay hard for hours and that he loved to use it. His heart broken, he went back downstairs to drown his sorrows in a couple of margaritas.

"The Good Butch Witch and the Lavender Witch, who had become fast friends with the prince during his stay in Libertyland, saw that he was sad and asked him what was wrong. When he told them, the Good Butch Witch said, 'That asshole.'

"But Prince Sunshine defended him saying, 'Maybe I pushed too hard.'

" 'No,' explained the Lavender Witch, 'what she means is you've been confusing Prince Alarming with Prince Charming.'

" 'Prince Alarming?' He was confused.

"So the Lavender Witch explained the entire tragic story, how as a young man Prince Charming had had a freak accident with a rubber sex toy. 'Which turned him into a dick head,' the Good Butch Witch said interrupting.

" 'Now you know,' the Lavender Witch revealed. 'Prince Alarming is really Prince Charming's alter ego.'

"Prince Sunshine couldn't believe it! He was astounded. He was shocked. And happier than he ever thought he would be after seeing the line up the stairs. There was a reason why Prince Charming was acting so strange, so mean, so cruel. Sunshine had been afraid it was something he had done, but, no, it was only a medical condition. 'Does he take medication?'

"The Good Butch Witch held up her fingers and made a quotes sign as she said, 'Oh, yeah, he's very fond of 'medication.' Only it doesn't do any good. Once a dick head, always a dick head.'

"But Prince Sunshine wouldn't believe that it was hopeless. If you loved someone enough, you could save them. Even from themselves. Going back to the stairwell that led to Prince Charming/Alarming's bedroom, Sunshine got back in line and waited his turn. If that's what it took, that's what it took.

"Meanwhile, the other guests at the party who hadn't been invited to the after-party party began discussing what to do. 'I hooked up with an alpha werewolf and I'm gonna meet him at his place in a half-hour,' said the Little Leather Pig. 'Just don't let him turn you into a briefcase,' warned Rainbow Sprite and he cocked his little crystal tiara to one side and went looking for love in all the wrong places. The Wicked Stepmother decided to go home to his hubby and count their gold pieces and their oil paintings, and to make sure the servants had washed their fine china and polished the silverware for their soiree tomorrow. Only, nobody cared except the PFLAG Fairy Godmother who felt it was her duty to think good thoughts about everybody, even the whiney, bitchy Wicked Stepmother. The Lavender Witch and the Good Butch Witch stumbled off together, having imbibed a bit too much happy juice at the bar.

"Finally, there was no one left except Prince Sunshine waiting his turn on the stairs. Although Prince Alarming had been averaging about fifteen minutes per guy, he'd been in there about twenty minutes with this last guest. Biting down on his impatience, Sunshine went through all the reasons why he shouldn't give up on Charming and by the time he'd gotten to 'He's got lovely, long legs,' the door opened and out tumbled a very exhausted, half-dressed fairy. Sunshine's heart started to pound as he came face to face with Prince Alarming.

"Of course, Prince Alarming looked just like Prince Charming but Sunshine thought he'd be less attracted to Alarming since he was such an asshole. Nope. The moment Alarming caught hold of his arm and dragged him into his bedroom, Sunshine began to swoon." Justin stopped. "Do you understand what swooning is?" he asked the baby. Gus just stared at him. "Well, it means that you feel dizzy and sick and excited and nervous and light-headed and really hot all at the same time." He pursed his lips. "Do you think Sunshine was right to feel that way about Prince Alarming? I mean, after all, he did look like Prince Charming, I mean, he was Prince Charming, just different. Just the bad side of Charming. Like when you wake up and you've got bed hair. Only, it's like your personality has bed hair. It doesn't mean it's not you, it's just a part of you." He paused before saying, "A bad part of you." A cloud passed over his head. "But it wasn't Prince Charming's fault. He'd had an accident and he couldn't help it. Why was Sunshine the only one to understand that?" Justin was just about to go on with the story when he heard Brian again. Not sure what was happening, he put Gus in his carrier first and then went to the bedroom, intercepting Brian just as he was about to get up on obviously unsteady feet. "Stay in bed."

Brian resisted. "I have to piss."

"Hold onto me," Justin ordered, and he slid an arm around Brian's waist and helped him to the bathroom. When he made to unzip Brian's jeans and take out his cock, Brian brushed his hands away.

"I can do it." And he did, only it took about four times as long as it would have taken Justin and the teen was afraid Brian was going to pee on himself before he got his dick out. Still, it was a minor victory. He did allow Justin to escort him back to bed, help him undress, and to feel his forehead again.

"You still have a fever. I'll get you some more Tylenol and some juice. You don't want to get dehydrated."

Brian held onto Justin's hand. "Where's Gus?"

"In his carrier."

He let go and closed his eyes. "What a fucking disaster."

"No," Justin said firmly, "you're just sick. No big deal. Gus is fine and even if he does get sick, babies get sick. Remember last time?"

Brian smiled softly. "He'll be a year old pretty soon."

Brushing Brian's hair back from his forehead, Justin asked, "What are you gonna get him for his birthday?"

"Maybe a baby Jeep, so he can cruise around town."

"And pick up tricks?" asked Justin.

"Or chicks. I don't think he's decided yet." He tried to laugh and couldn't really.

Justin cupped Brian's face for a moment. "I'll get the Tylenol." After he had gotten Brian to take two more pills and to drink an entire glass of guava juice, he pulled the sheet over him and sat next to him until he fell asleep again. Then he kissed him on the forehead and went to finish Gus' story.

Except Gus had fallen asleep too. Lifting Gus from his carrier, he ferried him to Brian's room and put him down in his bassinet. With both of his men asleep, Justin figured he'd get some shut-eye as well. Stripping down to his undies, careful not to disturb Brian, he crawled into bed and hoped he could fall asleep as quickly as the other two.

And he dreamt.

_Prince Sunshine could hardly contain himself as Prince Alarming drew him into his bed chambers. It looked the same yet something seemed different. The air was thick with the smell of sex and it turned him on, to think of Alarming with those other men, lying in their arms, fucking them. He moaned and Prince Alarming pushed him onto the bed and tore open his clothes. They kissed, hard, mouths mashed together, tongues warring between open lips. By the time Alarming rose off of him, he could hardly catch his breath. He watched as his lover removed his own clothes and knelt over his head. Holding onto the headboard with one hand, Alarming used his free hand to feed Sunshine his balls. Pressing down on the base of his cock, he forced his nuts into Sunshine's greedy mouth. Prince Sunshine couldn't get enough of the slippery flesh. He sucked and licked and kissed whatever was pushed between his lips, having given control over to Alarming. Finally, he was given Alarming's cock to suck, which he did, humming and moaning around the shaft as the prince pumped his dick inside his mouth. Saliva ran down his chin as he slurped on the fat head and thick stem, the juicy balls. His cock stiffening, Alarming began to fuck Sunshine's face, slowly, watching, through half-open eyes, his dick slide in and out of the youth's mouth._

_To Sunshine's dismay, Alarming withdrew his cock and crawled between his thighs, turned so that he faced his partner. Sunshine had wanted to eat on his cock and balls all night. And then all disappointment vanished as Alarming pounced on his meat and devoured him. Grabbing the headboard in his hands, he held on as the prince hard sucked his cock. Head lolling back and forth on the pillow, Sunshine grimaced when Alarming pressed on either side of his dick head and opened up his piss hole. With an evil grin, Alarming used the tip of his tongue to fuck Sunshine's dick. The youth's feet slid on the bed as he fought for purchase and found none. His back arched and fell as he struggled to contain the sensations that seemed to whip him all over. He felt raw, exposed, beaten. Slumping to the bed, he could only whimper as Alarming closed his mouth over the head of his cock and began phase II, rotating his head as he slowly moved down the youth's shaft, so that the cock head rubbed all around his mouth, his piss hole sliding against tongue, cheek, teeth, throat. Sunshine moaned and pressed on the back of Alarming's head. It made no sense, to keep him in place, when what he wanted, he thought, was for this torture to end. Only, he couldn't push him away._

_As his cock slipped from between the prince's lips, Sunshine sighed. He was as hard as an oak tree. His dick was flat against his belly and it leaked freely. Alarming took hold of him just below the head and lifted his dick free, a line of precum still joined to his belly. But he didn't suck him again, for which Sunshine was grateful. He didn't think he could last another minute. Releasing him, Alarming motioned for him to turn over. He did and got to his knees. Just as he got into position, Alarming mounted him. His cock pushed through the tight ring of muscle guarding Sunshine's bowels and paused. Sunshine thought he would scream as the broad head stretched his lips open. And then the pressure lessened as Alarming fed him another inch or so. And another inch. And another, continually advancing until he was completely buried in the youth's ass…_

Still dreaming, Justin moaned, waking Brian from an uneasy sleep. He turned over and shook Justin as hard as his weakened muscles would allow. In an instant Justin's eyes opened. "What?" he asked, his voice belying his grogginess.

"You were moaning," Brian answered, feeling between Justin's legs. He encountered the teen's erection. "Go beat off in the bathroom and come back to bed."

"Maybe I'll wait for you," Justin offered. "It's probably a 24-hour bug."

"What if it lasts longer?"

"I'll be horny enough to come five times in one night."

"And how would that be different from any other night?" He closed his eyes but didn't go back to sleep. "What were you dreaming about?" Justin gave him a look. " **Who** were you dreaming about?" Again a look. "You know, you really need to broaden your horizons, else we'll never have anything to talk about."

"Like your favorite topic of conversation isn't Brian Kinney," snorted Justin.

"The most fascinating subject imaginable."

"Now who's got no imagination?"

Brian smiled weakly. "I think I've demonstrated my creative abilities on many occasions."

Unable to dispute that claim, Justin retreated. "You feeling better?" But before Brian could answer, he covered his mouth and stumbled from the bed towards the bedroom. "Uh-oh," Justin commented, and he grabbed a wastebasket in case Brian didn't make it. He barely got to the toilet in time, dropped to his knees, and lifted the lid before he began to vomit. Afterwards, he sat on the cool floor with his head against the vanity. Justin wet a cloth and squatted in front of him. Wiped his face. "What did you have to eat today?"

"Nothing," replied Brian. "I didn't feel like eating."

Justin brushed the man's hair back, limp like he was. "And yesterday?"

"I don't remember." He thought about it and revised his answer. "Pie. I had some pie."

"Could be food poisoning."

"I hope it is." When Justin looked puzzled, he explained, "Then Gus can't get it. Neither can you."

"Your stomach feel okay? Any cramps?" Brian shook his head. "Might have gotten lucky. Sounds like a mild case. The diarrhea's the worse." He stood, held out his hand. Brian took it and Justin helped him back to bed, after which he made his patient drink two glasses of juice. "Can't get dehydrated."

Brian finished the second glass and laid back, exhausted. "You're good with people." Plucked at the covers. "Lots of patience." Said guiltily, "Not something I'm known for."

"Nope. Trying people's patience, that's what you're known for," teased Justin.

"When I'm feeling better, you're gonna get it," Brian said, closing his eyes. The last thing he heard clearly was Justin saying, "Counting on it."

Justin watched Brian until he had fallen asleep, then checked Gus, who had slept through it all. Satisfied that both Dadda and Sonny Boy were well, Justin tried to salvage what was left of the night.

Unfortunately, Brian woke up about fifteen minutes later and made another wobbly dash to the bathroom, and then sat on the floor, miserable, unshed tears in his eyes. Gus, of course, decided to wake up at that exact moment and cry, so that between comforting the baby and coaxing Brian back to bed, Justin thought he would lose his mind. Finally, Gus settled down again and he managed to get Brian off the floor and into bed. By that time it was about two-thirty and he wondered if it was even worth trying to get a couple hours sleep. But he couldn't keep his eyes opened if he wanted to and he didn't think he wanted anything so much as to sleep uninterrupted for three hours. So he slept. 

 

Justin managed to wake up before the baby and to shower without waking either of the two sleepyheads. But by the time he returned to the bedroom, the baby was wide awake. And fussy but not crying. Taking him from his bassinet, Justin carried him to the dining table and unpacked the bag with his food in it. Took out his cereal and removed a bottle of formula and a jar of fruit puree from the fridge. Per Lindsay's instructions, he mixed about a teaspoon of the dry cereal with two tablespoons of formula, placed it in the microwave for ten seconds, then stirred it thoroughly, let it sit for about a minute, and tested a bit of it. Tasted horribly bland to him but it was just the right temperature. As he fed Gus the cereal, he heated up a bottle of formula on the stove. After Gus had finished his cereal, Justin gave him his bottle. Lindsay said that sometimes he'd drink it all and other times he'd be full from the cereal. Today he drank all of it. "Sweet baby," crooned Justin. "What a good baby." Gus giggled, eyes bright. "Let's see if your Dadda's awake." But Brian was still asleep. He hadn't thrown up anymore and Justin figured he just needed the rest. Tiptoeing to the bathroom with Gus, he washed him and changed his diaper and clothes. Lindsay and Mel could wash his hair later. That done, Justin plopped Gus in his carrier while he put on a pot of coffee and rummaged around in the refrigerator for something to eat. The pickings were sparse. Luckily there were two bagels and about three teaspoons of cream cheese left in the container. No wonder Brian stayed so thin. Granted, he did eat out a lot or ordered in.

A bagel and a cup of coffee in one hand, Gus in the other, Justin headed for the living room, put Gus down on the white rug with his stuffed leather bear, and hoped he wouldn't spit up on it. Brian's loft hadn't been decorated with a baby in mind. After he finished his coffee and bagel, he got down on the floor with the baby and played peek-a-boo with Gus and the bear. As much as he loved playing with Gus though, his mind was on Brian. Aware that he couldn't do anything until Brian woke up, Justin decided to distract himself by finishing his story. Gus played on oblivious to his efforts.

"Okay, Gus, back to Prince Sunshine. So Sunshine and Alarming finished having sex, and Sunshine was prepared for the prince to tell him to beat it, but he didn't. He let Sunshine stay with him until morning and then they had breakfast together and took a walk in the gardens and went riding and Sunshine began to realize that Prince Charming was gradually returning to normal. They spent all day together and all night and by the second day Sunshine was certain that he was with Charming and not Alarming. Especially when Charming asked him, 'Where did you go? I found your note and I waited but you never came back.' Prince Sunshine explained to Charming what had happened and Charming forgave him and all was well. They decided that Prince Charming would tell his parents that he was never going to marry a princess and that he and Sunshine were going to live together in the palace and rule Libertyland together when the time came and that was that. Sunshine was so happy that he ran all of the way back to the PFLAG Fairy Godmother's place to pack his stuff and meet Charming at the palace.

"Suitcases in hand, he arrived at the palace gates but Prince Charming was nowhere in sight. And all of the palace guards were running around like they had gone crazy. 'What's going on?' he asked and the guards told him that Prince Charming had been kidnapped by an evil wizard. 'Which way did they go?' They pointed south. 'Is anyone going after them?' The guards shrugged. Demanding to be let inside, Prince Sunshine confronted the King and Queen. 'Is anyone going to rescue Prince Charming?'

" 'He's no longer our son,' replied the King and the Queen agreed. 'If he won't get married and behave like a member of royalty should behave, then good riddance to bad rubbish.' Which basically means, 'See ya!' " Justin explained to Gus. "Despondent and dejected, Prince Sunshine returned to the PFLAG Fairy Godmother's house and told her the sad news.

" 'Well, what are you going to do?' she asked him, and he thought about it and realized that without Prince Charming life had no meaning.

" 'I'm going to rescue him.'

" 'It could be dangerous.'

" 'I don't care. I love him and I'd do anything for him.' So Prince Sunshine put food and supplies in his backpack and went around to say goodbye to all of his friends in case he didn't see them again. Surprisingly, the Little Leather Pig, Rainbow Sprite, AND the Wicked Stepmother volunteered to join him. Not certain how much help those three would be in a crisis, Prince Sunshine agreed to let them accompany him-"

The phone rang. Certain it was Lindsay, Justin jumped up and grabbed the cordless phone on Brian's desk. "Hello?"

"Justin. Lindz. How's Gus?"

"He's okay. He's on the floor playing with his teddy bear."

"Let me talk to him."

So Justin put the phone to Gus' ear and listened while Lindsay talked to him. Gus gurgled and waved his hands about in delight. When Justin heard her saying his name, he put the phone back to his ear. "Yeah?"

"Where's Bri?"

"Asleep."

"Did he go out last night?"

"No." He paused, debated whether or not to tell her. Decided to. She should probably know. "He was sick. I think it was food poisoning."

"Is he all right?"

"Yeah. I think so. He threw up a couple of times late last night but he's been sleeping okay since then."

"Poor guy. You must be exhausted."

"I'm okay. He's the one who was sick."

"Yeah, but I know how much Bri hates to be sick and when he is, he can be a handful."

He shrugged. "He wasn't too bad. Slept a lot."

"Well, I'll come and get Gus. How about I pick up some breakfast on my way over? I know Brian's cupboard is usually bare."

"Get plenty of juice. I'm trying to keep him from getting dehydrated."

"Deal." As soon as he hung up, he heard footsteps behind him.

Brian swayed and caught hold of the sofa's back. "Was that Lindsay?"

"She's coming over and bringing breakfast."

Turning a little pale at the mention of food, Brian walked around to the front of the sofa and plopped down on it. Gus turned. "Hey, Sonny Boy." Gus crawled over and Brian hung his hand down for the baby to tug. "Did you tell her I was sick?"

"Yeah," Justin admitted sheepishly. When Brian didn't yell he asked, "How do you feel?"

"Like I'll live. Although I'm not sure that's a good thing." Looking down at Gus to avoid looking at Justin, he said, "Thanks."

Justin was ecstatic but tried not to show it, only smiled a little. "You want some coffee?"

"I thought you said coffee was bad for you."

"Only if you drink too much of it. You have to practice moderation."

Brian raised an eyebrow. "In everything?"

Justin reconsidered. "Well, most things," he conceded. 

 

Lindsay arrived with breakfast in hand, fussed over Gus and Brian, and made Justin promise to call if Brian got any worse. After she had gone, it was like a quiet storm had blown through leaving puddles of rain behind. And a quietness that enveloped them both. They retired to the bedroom with their breakfast and ate in relative silence. Brian picked at his food but drank both glasses of orange juice and half a cup of coffee. Justin started to clear away the plates but Brian lifted up the edge of the covers and said, "Leave 'em 'til later." Glad for the opportunity to be with Brian, Justin placed the dishes on the night tables and curled up next to him. "So how does the story end?"

Justin blushed. "You were listening?"

"To some of it. I was drifting in and out. I remember Prince Charming was kidnapped."

"It was just something to keep Gus occupied," Justin protested.

"Well, then, keep me occupied. Tell me what happens."

"Brian..."

"Please."

Brian actually said please. Justin could hardly believe it. A thank you and a please in the same morning. It must have been some sort of record. Unfortunately, he had been making up the story as he went along so he didn't really know how it unfolded, just how it ended. But, he supposed he could give it a try. Only, Brian would probably prove to be a lot more demanding listener. "Well, Prince Sunshine and his traveling companions-"

"Who were again?" asked Brian, although Justin thought he was well aware of what he had named them.

"The Wicked Stepmother, the Little Leather Pig, and Rainbow Sprite." Brian laughed weakly and Justin grinned and continued. "They started on their journey south and Rainbow Sprite was annoying everybody by singing, 'We're off to see the Wizard.' Not the whole song, just that line. Over and over again. And the Wicked Stepmother kept going on and on about his trip to Paris and nearly bored everyone to death. In fact, he did bore an old couple to death, literally, as they had weak hearts and the sheer overpowering boredom of his stories crushed them to death. And they had only heard him accidentally as they were taking out the trash." Brian cracked up, then moaned as his head still hurt a little. "Luckily the Wicked Stepmother was the first to go."

"What happened?"

"They stopped to bury the old people and the Wicked Stepmother thought it would make a great photo op. Only he let Rainbow Sprite take the picture and Rainbow Sprite kept saying, 'Back a little further, a little further, a little further,' until the Wicked Stepmother fell into the grave. He might have gotten out but he had so much stuff with him: expensive watches, rings, coats, camcorders... that he was too heavy for them to pull him up without leaving some of his stuff and he refused to leave a single thing, so they left him. Bye-bye, Wicked Stepmother."

"You're wicked," smirked Brian. "Who was next?"

"Rainbow Sprite. They were passing by a pond and Rainbow Sprite saw this fabulous outfit hanging on a tree branch. The Little Leather Pig told him to leave it alone but Rainbow Sprite couldn't resist and the moment he put on the clothes, he turned straight."

"What?!" exclaimed Brian.

"It's true. He turned straight and he left the group in shame. Became a gynecologist. A pussy doctor."

Brian laughed so hard he started to cough. After his fit was over, he implored Justin to continue.

"You won't ever tell the guys? Will you?"

"Scout's honor."

"You were never a scout."

"And they have no honor. Now, go on. What happened to the Little Leather Pig?"

"He got caught in a bear trap in the woods and became the sex slave of this master wolf. The last Prince Sunshine heard of him, he was being kept in a house in the forest; and every time you passed by, you could hear the wolf saying, 'Little Pig-' "

Giggling, Brian said, "Stop it."

" 'Little Pig, let me in.' And the Little Leather Pig would giggle and say-"

"Stop it," begged Brian and he almost fell off the bed laughing. "Can I at least call Ted the Little Leather Pig? Just once?"

Justin was firm. "No."

Pouting, "And then what?"

"Then Prince Sunshine was all alone. But he didn't care because he didn't need them. He didn't need anybody," Justin said, pausing. "Except Prince Charming." They looked at each other for a long moment and then Brian closed his eyes, unwilling to acknowledge Justin's declaration as anything more than a line in a fairy tale. As much as Justin wanted to call him out on it, he proceeded with his story instead. "So Sunshine continued on his journey, having lots more adventures- which I won't tell you about because they're just too many- until he finally found the castle where Prince Charming was being held captive."

"How did he know Prince Charming was there?"

"Because they had this connection. And because there was this long line of guys waiting to get into the castle, and you could hear the sound of someone screaming in ecstasy from inside. Even held captive, Prince Charming still demanded to be satisfied."

"So what did Sunshine do?"

"He waited. Until all of the guys had gone up to the prince's bedroom, waited until the last one left the castle, and then he climbed the stairs to the tower where Charming was. And there was no evil wizard, no fire-breathing dragon, no horde of ogres, no witches, no giants, no monsters of any kind- there was only Prince Charming/Alarming lying in bed alone, amazed that Sunshine had come looking for him. 'Why are you here?'" he asked.

"And Prince Sunshine said, 'Because I love you. And I'll always love you, no matter how many times you run away and hide, or pretend to be someone you're not. You can fuck a dozen guys a day, or a hundred, or just one, and it still won't matter, I'll still love you. And I'll wait for you. For a hundred years if I have to.' "

"Why?" asked Brian. "Why not find another Prince Charming?"

And Justin looked down at his hands. "Because there aren't any more." Looked up. "There's only one."

Brian swallowed, then asked tentatively, "What did Prince Charming say?"

"He said, 'If you really want to win my heart, you'll have to pass three tests.'

" 'Tests?' asked Sunshine. 'It's not enough that I trekked all the way out here, you want tests?'

" 'Yeah.'

" 'Okay,' Sunshine said. Like there was ever any doubt. Prince Sunshine was hooked. 'What do I have to do?'

Here Justin paused trying to think of the kinds of things the heroes usually had to do in these kinds of stories. Glancing over at Brian, he could see that the man was riveted. Who'd have thought? Finally, he thought of something. " 'Recover my childhood, my pride, and my first brush with manhood,' said Prince Charming."

Even Brian seemed impressed, if not confused. "What the fuck did he mean by that?" he asked Justin and the teen shrugged. Hadn't he said he was making this up as he went along?

"Prince Charming told Sunshine that he had three days to bring back all of the things he requested."

"Or what?" asked Brian.

"Or Prince Charming would become Prince Alarming forever and they would never be together. So the next morning, Sunshine restocked his backpack and set off to find the three items and he figured the best place to start would be back in Libertyland where Prince Charming was from and where his friends were. Maybe they could give him some hints. Except that it was so far away-"

Brian interrupted. "Why didn't they have horses or something?"

"It's a fairy tale, you're supposed to do things the hard way," explained Justin. Brian shrugged, satisfied with the answer. "Anyway, Prince Sunshine was sure he wouldn't make it to Libertyland and back in three days but he had to try. And as he walked he began to cry because he had never wanted anything as much as he wanted Prince Charming and it seemed like the whole world was against him, even Charming, and he had never done anything to harm anyone, to be so unhappy."

Brian said softly, "Life's unfair. That's the way it is."

"It doesn't have to be."

"No," he conceded. "But it usually is."

Knowing this was a discussion that was going nowhere, Justin returned to the story. "But he walked on because that's all he knew how to do: to keep going forward. Hours passed and he was beginning to feel that he'd be better off just lying down and dying, because he was never going to get to Libertyland, not in three days, not in a week. Just as he was about to give up, he heard a noise overhead, that sounded like a horse neighing. He looked up and there was Lady Talkalot on her magical horse. He was saved. Lady Talkalot landed the horse and he climbed on board. 'How did you find me?' he asked. And she told him that she had been flying around for days trying to pick up his trail but since she was from the city and didn't know very much about trails, she'd gotten lost a lot. It was purely by accident that she found him then. Taking the reins from Lady Talkalot, Prince Sunshine headed back to Libertyland. On the way he found the Wicked Stepmother still in the hole. Dropping a rope down to him, the flying horse was able to pull him up- stuff and all. In gratitude the Wicked Stepmother agreed to help Prince Charming on his quest.

" 'Tell me what you have to find,' he said and Prince Sunshine told him. The Wicked Stepmother's eyes got shiny, as if he were about to cry. He reached into his pocket and brought out a tiny, silver spinning top. 'Here's one of the things you're looking for,' he told Sunshine. 'Prince Charming used to love this top. And he would play with it all the time and ignore me. So one day I took it. He tore up the palace looking for it and I pretended to help him but he never found it. I remember looking in his eyes and seeing something different in them. Mistrust maybe. It was like he finally realized that life sometimes wasn't fair.' He handed the top to Sunshine. 'Here.' And the Wicked Stepmother began walking back to Libertyland."

"Why didn't they give him a lift on the horse?"

"It couldn't carry three. So they had one item. Sunshine and Talkalot continued towards Libertyland. They arrived at night and stayed with the PFLAG Fairy Godmother's place. She told them that she didn't know what Prince Charming meant by his pride and his first brush with manhood but that maybe Rainbow Sprite did or the Lavender Witch since they were his closest friends after the Wicked Stepmother. The next day they visited Rainbow Sprite who was now Dr. Sprite-" Brian burst out laughing. "He was the most popular gynecologist in Libertyland. All day long he stared at pu-"

Brian shoved Justin a little and shook his head. "I don't even want to think about it."

"Anyway," continued Justin, "he was so popular that in order to get in to see him, Lady Talkalot had to pretend to want an appointment. Dr. Sprite was such a whore for royalty that he let her in ahead of everyone else. But his face fell when he saw Prince Sunshine and he rushed them into the back. After Prince Sunshine assured him that they weren't there to expose him, Dr. Sprite became friendlier. 'So, what can I do for you?' Prince Sunshine explained his quest and asked if Sprite had any idea what Charming was talking about. At that, Sprite got all misty-eyed. He opened his closet and removed a box from the top shelf, and took out a shabby plastic and paste tiara. 'Prince Charming gave this to me years ago. He won it, you know. In some contest when he was just a twink. He went out in disguise to this club and danced with all the pretty boys- although he was the prettiest boy there- and when they announced the contest, he wasn't going to do it at first because he still wasn't sure he wanted to be that out, you know? But he did. He got up on stage and he wowed them and he won. Years later, when I was trying to decide how I wanted to live my life, he gave this tiara to me and he said, "Always be yourself. And if people can't take it, they can go fuck themselves." ' With trembling hands he surrendered the tiara to Prince Sunshine. 'I hope this helps. He deserves to be happy.'

" 'What about you?' asked Sunshine, saddened by Sprite's story in light of all that had happened.

"And Sprite held up a finger. As they watched, he stripped naked, reached into his closet, and removed his old rainbow-colored outfit, complete with crystal tiara. 'Tadaa!' Laughing, Sunshine and Talkalot clapped as Rainbow Sprite burst into song. 'I'm coming out!' When he was finished dressing, he strode through the waiting room screaming, 'Cows of the world, unite! Moo!' A little cruel but funny anyway."

Attempting not to laugh, Brian chuckled despite himself.

"Prince Sunshine couldn't believe it. He had two of the three items and he still had most of the second day left to find the final item and a whole day to travel back to the castle. He decided to try the Lavender Witch and the Good Butch Witch to see if they had any ideas. Besides, he missed them.

"And they missed him. Both of them covered him with kisses and asked him how he was doing and offered he and Lady Talkalot organic oatmeal and raisin cookies. Over snacks, Prince Sunshine told them about his quest.

" 'That's a bitch,' said the Good Butch Witch.

"But the Lavender Witch got all quiet and then she said, 'I'll be back.' She went upstairs and came back with a book. Inside was a single red rose pressed between the pages. 'Prince Charming gave this to me on our first date.'

" 'Date?!' exclaimed the Good Butch Witch. 'I knew there was something between the two of you, but dating? You dated? Fucking, yes. But dating?'

"The Lavender Witch smiled softly, remembering. 'We went dancing and afterwards we walked along the river and then we went back to the palace and well, you know. I was his first. Anything. Later on, he said that being with me gave him the courage to be who he really was and to go after what he really wanted.'

" 'To become a man,' said Sunshine and the Lavender Witch nodded in agreement. He gave her a kiss on the cheek, taking the proffered rose. 'Thank you.' Then saying goodbye to both witches and Lady Talkalot, Prince Sunshine mounted the flying horse and sped off to return to his true love, his quest completed.

"He arrived at the castle late at night, expecting to see a long line of men outside. There were no boys in sight. Inside the castle was quiet. A few candles lit the vast entry way. Climbing the stairs to the tower, Sunshine kept thinking of all the wonderful things they would do once they were together again. He pushed the door to Charming's room open and there, in a chair reading, was his prince. Charming turned at the sound and rushed into Sunshine's arms." At that Brian raised a brow. "It could happen," said Justin. "Besides, this is my story. After parting, Sunshine laid his backpack on the bed and, one-by-one, gave Prince Charming all the items he had requested. 'Your childhood, your pride, and your first brush with manhood,' he said, handing Charming the spinning top, the tiara, and the faded rose. As he watched, a tear rolled down Prince Charming's cheek. Mistaking it for a tear of joy, Prince Sunshine held him and promised that they would never be apart and that he would love Prince Charming forever, but Charming shook his head.

" 'You don't understand,' he said. 'It's all a lie.' He told Sunshine that the items were important but he didn't need them because he always knew where they were, even the spinning top. He told Sunshine that he could never win his heart because his heart had been broken and he had thrown away the damaged parts so that now he didn't have a whole heart and that's why he did the things he did." Justin watched for Brian's reaction but none appeared, at least not any that he could discern. "So Prince Sunshine promised Charming that he would find him a heart. That night, after they made love, Sunshine crept out of bed and went to find Charming a heart. In the morning when Prince Charming awoke, he found Sunshine lying dead next to him with a heart in his hands. It was Sunshine's heart. He had given it to his love. Overcome with grief, by Sunshine's sacrifice, Prince Charming felt his own damaged heart expand, and the missing pieces regenerated. He removed Sunshine's heart from his hands and placed it back in his chest, crying as he did so. The tears he shed fell upon his lover's body healing him. Prince Charming leaned over Prince Sunshine and kissed him. Sunshine opened his eyes and smiled. He had been reborn. They both had.

"Now that Prince Charming's heart had been restored, they returned home and lived together in the palace, the King and Queen having given up on Charming ever finding a princess. And when the King and Queen died, Charming and Sunshine became the rulers of Libertyland and they lived happily ever after. The end." Justin scanned Brian's face for any clues as to how he felt about the ending. But he unearthed none.

Brian's face remained as impassive as always. Then, it brightened. "No sex?" he asked.

Putting aside his disappointment that Brian hadn't made any other comments about the story, Justin replied, "Well, of course, they had sex."

"Then let's have it." Brian leaned back against the pillows and waited.

But Justin decided to turn the tables on him. "How about you tell me about it?"

Brian's tongue peeked from the corner of his mouth. Licked his upper lip. "Fine."

Not believing that he had gotten Brian to play along, Justin laid on his side, raised up on one elbow. Waited.

And Brian began. "As long as you do what I say. Deal?"

Justin shrugged. Whatever.

"Then undress. Slowly." Justin got off the bed and began to strip as Brian narrated his story. "Prince Charming slowly undressed Prince Sunshine, removing each item of clothing and putting them aside as if they were the robes of state." Justin slipped off his underwear to stand naked beside the bed. "He looked upon his naked lover with desire, lusting for his smooth, hot body." Brian smiled coyly. "Kneel over me."

Wondering what Brian had in mind since he hadn't completely recovered from his bout with food poisoning, Justin did as he was instructed. Knelt astride Brian's legs.

"Prince Charming knelt before Sunshine and ran his hands up the inside of his thighs." With a glance, Brian signaled that Justin was to do the same. The teen ran his hands up the inside of his thighs, surprised at how good it felt. And how titillating. "Leaning over, he kissed the tip of Sunshine's cock. Soft, playful kisses that sent shivers up his spine. Sunshine wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and held it steady for Charming-" Justin took his cock by the base- "while the prince continued to ply it with kisses that deepened the more excited he became. He loved the salty-sweet taste, the silky feel of Sunshine's dick." Each time Brian said dick or cock Justin felt as if someone were tugging on a string that passed through the tip of his cock and ran all the way down to his balls. "And as it stiffened, he became more insistent in pressing his affections upon the hardening flesh. His tongue flicked over the tip repeatedly, and encircled it, tracing the edge of Sunshine's hole." Justin's head lolled back. God, he could feel Brian's tongue on him. His cock twitched in his hands and he let go, so that it swayed before him. "Sunshine released his cock and let it sway before him, half-hard. Twisting his head, Charming slid his lips over the tip and down the shaft. Sunshine moaned as Charming engulfed more and more of his cock until it was enclosed in his mouth and throat. As he sucked on his cock, he ran his hands over his lover's plump, round ass." Brian waited for Justin to cup his buttocks and to begin to caress his cheeks.

"Head bobbing over his groin, Charming stroked and kneaded Sunshine's ass until his lover began to moan. He licked a finger and eased it inside of Sunshine." Justin licked a finger and pressed it against his hole. He opened up and swallowed the tip. Brian continued. "He was on fire with lust, with desire, with need. Can't you feel it? Charming's tongue slipping inside your dick head, the tip pushing against the lips of your cock. Holding your dick tight by the base, forcing the blood to the head so that it flares and he can lick your slit from base to tip." Justin began to pant, still fingering his ass, trying to ignore his growing erection, which stood but a little ways away from his belly. "Sucking the shaft, moving his tongue in circles against your skin, driving you crazy, driving you out of your mind as he gently grazes the skin with his teeth, eating you, devouring you. Nuzzling between your legs, gobbling up your fat, round balls. His finger inching up your tight, little hole." Brian's voice softened. "Cause it's you he wants. Not any of the hundreds of others, the thousands of other men he's been with. Just you." Justin moaned, his cock becoming even harder.

"And he lays his lips against your cock and talks to it. 'Let me see that juice. Just like peach juice. Clear, sticky sap. I wanna taste it, wanna wet my lips with it. Paint my face with it. Lick it up with my tongue. Just a drop. Just one drop of that sweet juice. Come on. Come on,' " he whispered. " 'Come on, baby, give it to me,' " and Justin felt a spark ignite at the base of his spine and travel through his body to his balls. He licked the corner of his mouth and gasped as a drop of precum appeared on the tip of his cock and slowly dripped downwards, falling in a thin line upon Brian's leg. "Yeah," Brian breathed as another drop descended, the rounded bottom elongating until it was as thin as the strands of a spider's web.

"More," Brian demanded. So Justin wrapped his hand around his dick and began to stroke himself, coaxing the precum from his hole. Each drop that fell only made him hotter, made Brian hotter. Brian's dick was hard but he made no attempt to touch his erection. Justin guessed that he was still not up to the exertion. But, truthfully, he didn't care, he was too embroiled in the sensations that swirled about him, emanating from his throbbing cock. "Show me," Brian demanded. "I wanna see it gush," and Justin increased the rate and intensity of his strokes, body jerking as pulses of pleasure raced throughout his body. Moans burst from his lips in staccato and he pressed the head of his cock as the first stream of cum splattered Brian's stomach. Then another. And another... the last few eruptions running down his fist. 

 

Justin awoke with a kiss. Brian was leaning over him, his mouth firmly pressed to Justin's. Then he drew away. Justin gazed up into Brian's eyes and he knew that Brian's heart hadn't been completely fixed, that there was no miraculous cure for either of them. But they had made a start, these past eight months almost had been about new beginnings. In the real world, there was no magic except time, patience, understanding, and fortitude. And sacrifice. Sliding his hand around the back of Brian's neck, Justin smiled softly, to let him know he understood. Maybe they'd never live happily ever after, maybe that wasn't the ending to their story, but they just might live happily for a while. Maybe that was all anyone could ever hope for in the real world.


	21. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Justin play an erotic game and make an unexpected discovery.

When Brian was bored, his brain began to seethe, and sitting at the far end of the table, opposite Ryder, listening to his boss drone on during one of their interminable monthly department meetings bored him beyond belief. So he began to plot and plan and as he did his lips curled into a sly smile. Glancing his way, Cynthia lifted an eyebrow, certain that his sudden good humor had nothing to do with Ryder's progress report and wishing she knew just what was going through his mind-and with whom. 

 

Justin checked his email on the sly during class and almost gasped out loud when he saw who had written him: BrianK@Pittserv.com. Brian had never written him first before. Pressing his lips together to keep from yelling for joy, he opened his message. It was terse and to the point-utterly Brian. "Tonight. Sleepover. Seven o'clock. Shower first. B." Justin could hear him whispering in his ear and he shivered feeling Brian's breath on his skin. 

 

He stepped through the doorway into Brian's arms; was pushed back against the door, now shut, and kissed roughly. Brian, one hand around Justin's waist, the other cupped over his ass, kissed him again and then laid his lips against Justin's cheek, near his ear. "I've hidden a few toys around the loft. Find them and we can play," he drawled.

Hide and seek. Justin grinned. "How will I know when I've found one of them?"

"You'll know," promised Brian. He swatted Justin on the rear. "Now, go." Waved as he stretched out on the sofa and waited. "Happy hunting."

When it appeared that Brian wasn't going to give him any hints regarding where he had hidden his toys, Justin made a decision: start in the bathroom. It was a confined space with a limited number of hiding places and anything that didn't belong would stand out like black against white.

So he thought. He quickly realized that was a false assumption. The bathroom was full of hidey holes and seemed to be twice as large as before. Plus, he never realized how much stuff was in the cabinets and drawers. With no clue as to what he was looking for, everything began to look out of place so nothing stood out. It was only after the third sweep of the shower that he realized one of the bottles didn't belong. There was shampoo, conditioner, shower gel, exfoliant, moisturizer, and a bottle of chocolate syrup. His pulse began to dance as his mind conjured all sorts of images. Sauntering out to where Brian lay sprawled on the sofa, Justin held the bottle behind his back.

Brian looked up. "Well?" The bottle of syrup was produced and offered. Taking it, Brian rose and headed for the bedroom. Justin followed, beaming.

The first thing he saw was that the bed had been covered with a ratty, old spread-clean, but clearly something Brian would never use on a regular basis. At Justin's questioning look Brian explained, "I'm not getting chocolate all over my $400 duvet." He dropped the bottle onto the bed and grabbed Justin.

As they kissed they undressed, each one struggling to get out of clothes that had suddenly developed wills of their own, defying them at every turn. Justin's shirt got caught on his head and Brian, hungry for him, nibbled on his nipples until, laughing, the teen worked himself free. Finally, breathless from the exertion as well as from excitement, they stood bare skin against bare skin. Brian pulled away and handed the bottle of syrup back to Justin, laid back on the bed. "I'm starving," he announced.

Justin raised the top on the bottle and upended it over his chest. The thick liquid dripped onto his skin and flowed like molten lava down his torso. Closing the top and tossing the bottle onto the bed next to Brian, Justin began spreading syrup over his chest, his ribs, his belly. Soon his entire torso was covered in swirls, in handprints of chocolate.

With a growl, Brian rose and pulled Justin down upon the bed, already feeling the first stirrings of desire. They wrestled, lips locked in a rough and raw kiss, and Brian could feel the chocolate syrup smearing his own skin. Holding Justin down, he began to feed upon him. Sucking his nipples, tongue working around the ring in the right one. Licking the skin clean down the center of his chest. He paused and opened the bottle, filled Justin's navel with chocolate and then sipped it from his belly button as if he were sampling fine wine.

Justin's chest labored as he struggled to remain semi-coherent and relatively calm, but it was difficult when your lover was going down on you, lips closed around your dick, forming a tight seal so that every movement of his tongue, of his throat, was like the most exquisite torture. And then he was set free-only so that Brian could squeeze chocolate over his cock. He felt it ooze over his balls but was quickly distracted by Brian's mouth swooping down upon his dick, ravenous, rapacious. Justin cried out as a spasm spread in waves from his groin like ripples from a stone thrown into a pond. Brian slid his lips back up the shaft and focused on the head. His tongue sought out the area of greatest sensitivity and concentrated, it seemed to Justin, on driving him out of his mind. He writhed about on the bed and gasped, "I'm gonna come."

Brian gave the head a final lick and released him. From his mouth. But he didn't free him, not entirely. Squirting more chocolate into his palm, he began jacking Justin off, the shaft of his cock sliding through Brian's fist and growing impossibly harder as the man tugged harder and faster with each stroke.

With a muffled cry, Justin blew his load. Brian jerked on his dick, directing the stream of cum at his belly. The creamy, viscous liquid pooled on his chocolate-streaked skin. Coaxing the very last drops from his shaft, Brian grinned and let him go. Then, Justin's eyes fixed on him despite the veil of lust that obscured his vision slightly, Brian leaned over him and began to lap the cum from his flesh. Justin's muscles rippled as Brian took his repast. He didn't cease his feast until Justin's skin was clear of cum and a great deal of chocolate. "Yum," he murmured, lips pressed against Justin's belly. He raised his head, chocolate and cum smeared across his lips. Justin drew Brian up onto him and they kissed, sharing the taste. "Delicious."

After they had rested for fifteen, twenty minutes, Brian reminded the Boy Wonder of the remaining objects hidden somewhere in the loft. He stroked Justin's flank leaving a chocolate palm print.

The teen squirmed in his arms. "What about you?" He encircled Brian's dick with his hand. Although not erect, it was definitely open to the idea of being petted.

Brian brushed his hand away. "Later. Get busy."

Naked, except for the haphazard streaks of chocolate serving as reverse camouflage, Justin began searching for the other hidden treasures, wondering what Brian had in store for him next. Despite the nap he was still pleasantly buzzed from having sex. Smiling broadly, he started to go into the living room when Brian called out, "Wash your hands."

Hands washed, Justin began his search of the living room. Carefully, so as not to get chocolate on anything white-which was nearly everything-Justin lifted cushions, looked behind and beneath and inside planters. Nothing. He looked under the sofa, not believing that Brian would go to so much trouble. Frustrated by his lack of progress, he returned to the bedroom doorway. Brian lay with his eyes closed, a picture of indolence. "Give me a hint," Justin begged. Brian said nothing. "At least tell me if I'm warm or cold," he suggested as a compromise.

Brian opened his eyes. "Where?"

Tentatively, not wanting to waste his only chance, Justin pointed to the living room.

"Cold," pronounced Brian and he closed his eyes again.

That left the kitchen and the bedroom. Kitchen first. One by one, he opened the cabinets and examined the contents. Everything looked in place. But then again, that would be the point of hiding something in there, to make it blend in. And the best way to do that would be to put the object inside of something else. He opened the first cabinet again and studied the boxes. There, in the corner, was a box of Cheerios. He grinned. Brian wouldn't have been able to resist. Justin reached up for the box, and was surprised to find that it weighed a lot more than an ordinary box of cereal. Sliding it all the way out, he saw a J scrawled in the corner. Carried the box, unopened, to Brian.

"Good boy." He sat up and swung his legs over the side. Took the box from Justin and crooked his finger. Follow me.

Justin wasn't surprised that their destination was the chaise lounge, having had two erotic encounters there. Sure enough there were condoms and a tube of lube on the table next to it. Brian ordered Justin to lie face up and to close his eyes. Although tempted to peak, Justin trusted Brian; besides, not knowing whetted his appetite even more. He listened carefully for the slightest hint.

Brian opened the box and removed something from it. Something that clinked softly. Then he took hold of his left wrist and closed something cold around it. Metal. His heart began to race. Handcuffs. Brian drew his hand down and cuffed the other bracelet around the chair leg. Then he did the same to Justin's right wrist. Drawing Justin's legs down on either side of the lounge, Brian tied one rope around his right ankle, passed it over the central support bar of the chair, and then knotted the other end around the left ankle so that Justin lay spread eagle over the lounge, vulnerable, open to whatever Brian wanted. "Open your eyes," he said, and Justin did, faintly alarmed by how helpless he looked.

Then the kissing began. Brian's lips brushed over his nipples, tongue flicking over the tips, and then he bit down. Gently, but firmly, causing pain to ripple from the affected area. He tried to raise up but couldn't, constricted by the handcuffs. It was then that he got an inkling of what it would be like. Again his nipples were laved by Brian's tongue and again a throb of pleasure radiated from the hard nubs before the biting began. "You ready for more?" Trembling, Justin nodded, putting all of his faith in Brian, in the belief that he wouldn't do anything to harm him. Brian leaned over and kissed him gently upon the lips before moving down his torso, bypassing his much abused tits and making straight for his dick.

Soft kisses became demanding, incessant as Brian gave his cock head all of his attention, lips tight around the swollen flesh, tongue probing the gasping slit. Justin could hardly breath. And then Brian went down on him, taking almost all of his cock into his mouth, moaning as he sucked, as if he were famished and this was the meal he had always dreamt of, desired. When he finally paused, Justin's cock dripped with saliva. While Justin struggled to catch his breath, Brian went around the chair and released his arms and legs. That done, he pulled Justin forward in the chair so that his hips were higher than his head. Then Brian reached into his box of goodies and retrieved a cinch with a ring attached to it. This he fastened around Justin's cock, forcing his balls up against the shaft. He took a slender length of rope and threaded it through the ring, then tied the string to the metal frame of the chair. There was very little give.

Justin was confused and then Brian's mouth swooped down on him and he thrust up into his mouth out of habit, out of need, and felt the cinch around his cock pull as it reached to the limits of the rope. He cried out and understood at last. While his limbs were free, his dick was not. So he was still bound.

Brian raised Justin's legs and held them out of his way as he fed on the teenager's cock. He loved going down on him, feeling the thick cock slide around in his mouth; the broad, blunt head rubbing against the roof of his mouth, then the back of his throat. And the cinch ensured that the cock would only increase in girth and length, intensifying their pleasure.

Coming up for air, Brian caught Justin's eye and said in a husky voice, "Hold your legs open." Justin took over, heart pounding in anticipation. As he watched, Brian took out another cord and this one he knotted around Justin's shaft just below the head. The other end he tied to the frame so that Justin's erect cock was pulled slightly sideways. It would be difficult to move without the ropes tugging on his dick.

It would be even more difficult not to move now that Brian had lowered his head and was eating out his ass. Each time his lover's tongue washed over his hole, Justin wanted to scream. And then Brian used his fingers to spread his lips and his tongue began to probe in earnest. Justin clenched his teeth and tried to stay still as Brian's tongue entered his ass and curled upwards towards the roof of his hole. He felt dizzy.

Brian twisted his head and continued to lap Justin's hole, very nearly losing himself in the teen's voluptuous ass. To feel the fine hairs that surrounded the anus against his mouth, to feel the walls of his hole press against his tongue. Hearing Justin cry out, Brian knew that the boy couldn't hold out much longer. Neither could he.

He stood and replaced his tongue with three fingers which he worked in and out of his hole. With his free hand, he stroked his erection. Justin's eyes were fixed on the sight of his throbbing cock. Removing his fingers from the teen's ass, he untied the two ropes holding Justin's dick captive. Slipped a condom onto his cock and lubed himself and Justin. Still standing, he positioned Justin's ass where he wanted it to be and plunged inside him. The teen's lips parted and stretched around Brian's dick, kissing the entire shaft as it passed through the swollen entrance.

Justin's ankles in his hands, Brian thrust at will, working his cock in and out of the pliable opening. At first his strokes were smooth, even, feeding Justin his entire dick, and then sliding out until only the head remained inside. Justin moaned each time Brian's cock dipped inside his hole, the head making its way up his moist tunnel towards some undisclosed destination. Holding onto the body of the lounge, he could only lie there as each thrust, each lunge, each foray brought them closer to the edge.

Then inspiration struck. Brian released Justin's left leg and reached down for the ropes that remained attached to the teen's shaft. Taking them in his teeth, he tugged on them in time with his thrusts. Justin's back rose from the lounge as he shouted. A few more tugs and he tightened around Brian's dick. Cum bubbled from and spilled over his cock head. A strand dropped to his belly and hung there, suspended from the tip of his dick. Brian groaned around the ropes in his teeth, feeling his own climax building. A bright light burst behind his eyelids and he jabbed Justin's hole with even more force, in the grip of the first spasms. 

 

Taking much longer to recover from the last episode, they slept for an hour or more, still streaked in chocolate, the sauce having dried to a pale brown solid that flaked off with every movement. Brian wouldn't risk his sheets or duvet, so they still lay on the ratty spread, arms and legs around one another for warmth. As usual, Justin woke first. Instead of disturbing Brian, he studied the sleeping man, gleaning strength from just looking at him. He loved Brian's eyelashes; so long and silky, they lay upon his cheek like peacock feathers. Loved his slanted eyebrows. His lightly stubbled cheeks. Strong jawline. And his lips, full and red. As if he had become aware of his lover's intense scrutiny, Brian awoke. Smiled. They kissed slowly, no rush to arouse, to entice, just a simple act that expressed their contentment.

Justin brushed Brian's hair back from his forehead. "Did you hide anything else?"

Turning, Brian reached beneath his pillow, drew out a card, handed it to Justin. "A freebie. A reward."

"For what?" asked Justin, and then he blushed when he realized what Brian meant. "What is it?"

"Read it."

"Justin says…" He looked questioningly at his partner.

"Didn't you play 'Simon Says' as a kid? You ought to remember. After all, it was just yesterday."

"I'm surprised you remember," Justin replied. "How many years has it been since you were a kid?"

Brian reached for the card. "Maybe I should take that back, and cut it up, and go to sleep."

But Justin snatched it out of reach. "No!"

"Then play nice," Brian admonished.

"You too." When Brian didn't respond, Justin asked, "And you'll do whatever I say?"

"We'll see."

"No fair!" Justin protested. He climbed onto Brian and straddled him. "I trusted you," he reminded him.

Brian reached up and ran his fingers along Justin's smooth jaw. "I'll do whatever you want. As long as you say the magic words."

" 'Justin says.' "

"And Michael says you're slow," Brian teased.

"Justin says shut up and kiss me."

And Brian pulled down his head and kissed him. That went on longer than Justin had planned, mainly because he couldn't get enough of his lover's lips warm against his. Each time he thought he was ready to move on, Brian would lick the underside of his bottom lip or suck on the edge of the top one or do something that would give birth to a voracious need that threatened to devour him. When they were finally able to part, their lips were swollen, tender.

Justin whispered, "Justin says let's take a shower."

The warm water sluiced them down, washing away the remaining bits of chocolate that clung to their skin. Brian squeezed shower gel down the middle of Justin's back and worked up a lather which he spread over his buttocks, around to and across his chest, down over his belly, between his thighs. Justin could feel Brian's cock slide against his hip as the older man washed him but it was merely one sensation in the midst of many as Brian's fingers worked to arouse as well as clean.

Only the threat of the hot water running out drove them from the shower. They dried off in big, fluffy towels and Justin then applied moisturizer to Brian's skin-part of his fear of growing old ritual that Justin had learned not to mock. Once he had done so and Brian wouldn't fuck him for two whole days no matter what Justin did to entice him. Besides, it was an excuse to touch him, to touch his wonderfully smooth skin. After he was done, he said, "Justin says carry me into the bedroom." As he spoke, his stomach tightened. He didn't know how Brian would react to that order.

He needn't have worried. Brian caught him behind the knees and around the back and lifted him in his arms. Carried him in to the bedroom and laid him upon the bed, sans the ratty spread. Brian had snatched it off the moment they rose to go shower. Despite its excellent service, it was now relegated to a corner in the room, bunched up and forgotten. Having laid Justin on the comforter, Brian crawled onto the bed and waited for his next order. And as he did he thought how beautiful the teen was, like some great, golden cat, stretched out on the bed, waiting to be pleasured.

Justin racked his mind, searching for something that he wanted, something that Brian wouldn't give him ordinarily. To ask him to fuck him, that wasn't enough, they fucked often enough without any special impetus except that they wanted one another and couldn't seem to be apart for very long, despite Brian's protestations to the contrary. He knew that if he wanted, he could get Brian to fuck him every day of the week that began with a consonant. Yet it wasn't enough. He knew what he wanted, what he needed. And no card, no matter how generous Brian was feeling, would impel the man to comply. Justin smiled wistfully and kissed Brian softly. "I'm tired." He started to turn over but a hand to his shoulder stopped him.

"What's wrong?"

For a split second he thought he would tell Brian the truth, but then good sense prevailed and he shook his head. "I'm tired," he repeated.

So quickly the boy's demeanor had changed from joy to sadness. When he had first conceived of the card, he hadn't thought it through, hadn't thought that maybe there were things Justin would want that he wouldn't be able to give, wouldn't want to give, but he could tell that Justin had given it thought, had just come to the same conclusion. Brian cupped his face, running his thumb over his cheek. Kissed him. "One more."

"Brian-"

"Just one." He paused, then said, "No matter what."

Justin gazed into his eyes and saw the truth there. Leaning forward, he whispered into Brian's ear, then drew back. Waiting.

Hesitating for so long that Justin had come to the conclusion that he wouldn't do it, Brian finally made up his mind. Taking Justin in his arms, he laid his lips along his neck and whispered two words. And then he remained as he was, face buried in the teen's neck, unable to move. But only for a while, as Justin drew apart and forced him to look into his eyes. A smile spread across the boy's face. Even if he had wanted, he couldn't have stopped it. And Justin didn't want to stop it. He wanted Brian to see how happy he had made him.

Brian's heart hammered in his chest and he wanted to flee the bed, to run and hide from what he had done, had said, but it had been said, could never be unsaid now. And Justin would never let him forget, he could tell by the smile on his face. Christ, he wanted… he wanted to be all right with this but he wasn't. He couldn't accept it, even as he recognized the truth in his words. What was he going to do?

Justin knew by the look in Brian's eyes how much his words had cost him. Holding Brian's gaze with his own, he issued one last order, "Justin says…" He paused, eyes shiny. "Justin says we don't ever have to-" but before he could finish Brian grabbed him and kissed him hard, cutting off the flow of words.

They made love quickly, unthinkingly, and afterwards lay entwined, holding onto one another as a raging tempest of emotions tossed them about in uncertainty. In the weeks, the months to come, they would return to this moment fraught with beginnings and endings and wonder how they had survived when so much had been undone-completely overlooking the fact that the answer was in this moment, in the way they lay head upon chest, trusting a strength other than their own, entrusting their heart to another.


	22. In My Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone dreams of Brian and Justin on a fantasy trip to NYC.

_The sleeper turned over and sank once more beneath the surface of a dream…_

 

"I've been thinking," Brian began and, somehow, Justin refrained from making some smart-assed remark. "I need to get away." Justin remained calm when all he wanted to do was to shout. If Brian was telling him about his plans, that meant he was planning on taking him. Eyes fixed on Justin, Brian continued. "Maybe New York." He took a swig of soda from the chilled bottle, water beading on the outer surface as it warmed. "Fly up early Friday morning and come back late Sunday night." He still hadn't said anything about Justin going, so the teen waited without comment; but not even Brian could be that cruel. "What do you think?"

Justin's mouth opened slightly but no words emerged. Deb, passing by the table where they sat, said, "Five minutes, Sunshine," reminding him that his break was nearly over.

Brian, showing a great deal more patience than usual, waited for his answer. Finally he found his voice. "Sounds great."

"So you can get out of school for the day?"

"Yeah." He had no clue what would happen to him for skipping but fuck it, if Brian wanted him to go, he'd go and deal with the fallout later.

"Good. This Friday. I've already got reservations and tickets," Brian announced. He stood and placed a five on the table, payment for the soda plus a generous tip.

Stuttering, Justin rose too. "But that's only two days away."

"He's cute and he can count too," Brian teased. "How'd I get so lucky?"

Justin watched as the man exited, sliding on his sunglasses as he pushed open the door. In a daze he collected the payment for the soda and wondered how he was going to explain ditching school to his mom when she found out.

Glancing at the five dollar bill in Justin's hand, Deb remarked, "Nice tip."

Justin looked around. "I'm going to New York."

"Not on that," she smirked.

"I'm going to New York with Brian," he amended. As the implications sank in, a huge smile appeared on his face; they could have had a blackout and there would still have been enough light in the diner to see by, he was gleaming so. 

 

The last time he had flown to New York it had been coach, but Brian didn't do coach. Even though the flight was relatively short, clocking in at around an hour, it was still too long for him to endure "cramped quarters and mediocre conversations going on around me," despite the fact that the airplane wasn't completely full due to the early hour. Brian had wanted to get to the hotel, leave their stuff, and enjoy a full day in the city. Justin had concurred. Especially after Brian had said that it was up to him, what they would do there. "And we can do anything I want?" he had asked, not believing that Brian would leave it all in his hands, relinquish that much control.

"Anything," Brian had replied.

They landed at La Guardia and took a limo to the hotel. "The Michelangelo," Brian told the driver, thrilling Justin with the name. Brian had thought it would.

Although the car had darkened windows, Brian let Justin roll them down in order to see the sights as they journeyed from Queens into Manhattan. By the time they arrived on the West Side forty-five minutes later and pulled up to the hotel, Justin already thought this was the best trip he had ever taken and they hadn't done anything but drive through the city.

Having paid and tipped the driver, Brian left their bags with the concierge, as check-in didn't begin until the afternoon. "So what do we do first?" he asked.

Justin got out the map and after a few moments of studying it said, "We could go to MOMA first, and then the Guggenheim, and the Met."

Brian didn't argue. "Find me some coffee first and I'm all yours."

They were among the first visitors of the morning. Handing over their coats to the attendants, they made their way to the ticket booth where Brian purchased two adult tickets, and took the escalator to the second floor.

Brian stood in front of the **_Matta,_** exploring the canvas as if he were wandering inside a cave. He was drawn to it in a way he couldn't explain, not even to himself. Maybe it was the colors, or the movement of the elements, or something else entirely, he didn't know. Justin joined him, observed Brian's interest in the painting. "I would have thought you'd like the **_Bacon_** ," he said.

"I do," Brian replied. "But I like this too." He read the label, "Le Vertige d'Eros. The Vertigo of Love." Smiled softly. Continued onto another canvas, Justin following behind him, amazed that a piece of art could affect Brian so.

They took a cab to the Guggenheim since it was too far to walk and taking the subway from MOMA to the nearest station would mean transferring lines and then walking a couple of blocks to the museum anyway.

Despite the slogan, "If this is the frame, imagine the art inside," upon leaving the Guggenheim, they both agreed that the building itself was a more impressive work of art than any exhibit piece on the inside.

From there they walked down past the Met to the Mark Hotel, having decided that they couldn't do another museum without fortification. The bar was filled with continental visitors and Upper East Side matrons in their twenties who hardly looked askance at the two new arrivals. It wouldn't have been polite. Sharing an order of spring rolls, they waited for their chicken satay to arrive. Refraining from having his customary straight up shot of Jim Beam, Brian sipped a Bloody Mary while Justin satisfied himself with a Coke, although he did manage to sneak a mouthful of Brian's drink.

Justin caught Brian staring at the woman at the next table and raised an eyebrow, but then he realized that what Brian was really interested in was her Prada shopping bag. Clearing his throat, he suggested they split up for the afternoon. "I can go to the Met and you could go shopping," he offered.

"No," Brian replied without hesitation. "This is your trip."

"Our trip," Justin corrected.

Brian revised his statement. "Our trip. Besides, I have all the Prada I need. For this season," he added before Justin could call him out.

Leaning forward, Justin confessed, "I like to watch you dress."

"And undress," Brian grinned.

Justin agreed. "I like that best."

His comment delayed by the arrival of the waiter with their order, Brian promised, "Later." 

Brian thought he had never seen Justin so happy as he seemed to be roaming through the Correggio and Parmigianino exhibit. Even he found himself affected by the powerful drawings. But Justin, Justin's eyes sparkled and he never stopped smiling, even when he was deep in study. Having obtained permission from the information desk ahead of a time, he took his pad from his backpack and rapidly sketched a couple of the pieces, paying particular attention to how certain pencil strokes seemed to magically create light and shadow effects. Or so it seemed to Brian. He had never watched Justin work before. The drawings Justin had done of him had been executed while he slept. Which was just as well. He couldn't imagine staying still long enough for Justin to draw him. When it seemed that Justin would be occupied for a while, Brian removed the William Blake page from his Met program, folded it, and slipped it into Justin's pocket. The teen paused and looked down, saw what Brian had done, and waved as he left.

His sketches done, Justin found Brian wandering around the Blake exhibit. In particular, he seemed fascinated by the prints of Satan. Pausing in front of one depicting Satan protecting his daughter from Death, a strange look came over his face. Justin paused next to him and he glanced over, wonder suffusing his features. "What is it?" Justin asked, dying to know what Brian was thinking.

"Even Satan cared about somebody," he answered. "You ready?"

Although Brian dropped the metal museum tab in the recycle barrel near the entrance, Justin kept his, placing it in his wallet so that he wouldn't lose it. 

The day's activities hadn't really exhausted them but they agreed not to go out for dinner, opting instead to order Room Service from the hotel restaurant, Limoncello, which was no loss as the food was delicious and it gave them the opportunity to be together, alone. While waiting for their dinner to arrive, Brian plugged in his laptop and checked his email for messages from Ryder or Cynthia. His expression brightened when there were none.

Justin rummaged through the CDs he had brought and selected one, slipped it into the player they had gotten from the concierge, and pushed 'Play.' "Loving you is so hard to do…" Sounds of The Aloof's "So Good" filled the room. In an instant Brian crossed to him and plucked the front of his sweater, leading him into the middle of the sitting room. They danced, Justin's arms around Brian's neck, until a knock at the door announced the arrival of their meal. The bell boy quickly set the dining table, took the signed receipt and tip from Brian, and exited less than three minutes after stepping across the threshold. Justin, for one, was glad to see him go. Despite his efficiency Justin noticed that the guy still had enough time to ogle Brian. Not that Brian noticed. Sometimes his obliviousness was his finest quality. He was like a lion in that lions would ignore potential prey if they had just eaten. With Brian, even if he had only decided to fuck someone, it was enough, no one else existed. Tonight, he only had eyes for Justin.

The tub was big enough for the two of them. Padding on bare feet over Italian marble, Brian ran the water, adding a generous amount of bath beads. As the bubbles formed, he called Justin. The teen came and stood still as Brian undressed him, lips brushing lightly over his skin. Once he was completely naked, he returned the favor. By the time the tub had filled, they were well on their way to becoming so aroused that bathing might have to wait. But they managed to part, and climbed into the large, marble bath. Of course, they didn't intend only to wash. Still, they wanted to take it slow. So they sat in the tub, Justin cradled against Brian's chest, and relaxed. Soaked among the luxurious bubbles. And then Brian took the soap in hand and began to lather Justin's chest, his arms, his thighs. Justin moaned and turned in Brian's arms, knelt astride his hips, and they kissed as Brian soaped his back, his buttocks. Water splashed over the edge as their kissing became more energetic. Discarding the bar of soap, Brian used his naked hands to wash Justin's body.

They abandoned the tub and slipped on the terry cloth robes supplied by the hotel. Stumbled from the bathroom and into the bedroom. Disrobed and tumbled into bed heedless of the water and suds that still clung to their skin. Justin dried Brian's cock and unrolled a condom over it, lubed it, lifted his legs to Brian's shoulders, and fed his lover's dick into his hungry hole. With Brian safely inside him, he released his lover's cock and held onto Brian's waist and hips, urging him to thrust, to penetrate, to plunge into him with abandon. The bed gave very little as they fucked, the solid cherry wood furniture designed and built to last a lifetime. Brian pulled out of him, flipped him over, and lifted him onto his knees. Justin cried out as Brian mounted him from behind, his breath hot on the nape of his neck. They struggled for a while, one of Brian's hands around the teen's cock, beating him off as he drove his dick deep inside his ass. Finally Justin gripped the headboard and began to mutter. "Oh God, oh God, oh God. Oh!" He whispered, "Brian, Brian. Brian." And Brian kissed the side of his face, knowing that Justin didn't want an answer, only for him to fuck him harder, faster. His strokes ragged, hurried, Brian gave Justin's penis a final squeeze and then held on, caught up in his own climax. As the cum spurted from his dick, trapped by the thin skin of the condom, he felt Justin's cock leap in his hand. Cum splattered the cherry wood in front of them again and again and dripped onto the pillows at the head of the bed.

Justin had the day already planned. Start in Chelsea with the galleries, work their way down to the West Village for lunch, then finish off the day in Soho. "Although Soho's gotten really commercial. All the best people have moved to Chelsea," he pronounced as if he were privy to the inner secrets of the art world.

Impressed nonetheless, Brian allowed himself to be guided from one gallery to the next. They covered most of Chelsea from 22nd to 15th St. hitting "all of the important galleries," according to Justin. Not complaining once, Brian followed dutifully along. Truthfully, he enjoyed himself, or rather, he enjoyed being exposed to Justin's enthusiasm. Even though his interest was primarily in the human figure, Justin seemed genuinely open and interested to all kinds of art. "You never know what's going to inspire you. Sometimes I can look at an abstract painting, and realize something new about the body, something I never thought of before. Never noticed before." They paused, waiting to cross the street. "Is it like that for you, with advertising?"

Brian thought about it. "I guess. Maybe. I do look at a lot of ads to get ideas. And I suppose I have a personal style that influences how I sell things. But I don't have a specialty-like drawing people-I'll sell anything. So it's not quite the same."

They so very seldom talked, about anything, that Justin was just as pleased by their conversation as by being in the city together. "What's the first ad you ever did by yourself?"

Grinning, Brian shook his head. "You won't believe it."

"Try me."

"A condom ad."

The teen laughed. "You're right. I don't believe you."

"Really. It was for an AIDS awareness campaign. They figured I was young and gay, what the hell." He smiled, remembering.

"So what did the ad say? What did it look like?"

"There were these two guys and they were naked, but you could only see their torsos, and one was holding a condom. And the slogan was, 'Nothing comes between me and my man-except this.' " He pressed his tongue into the side of his cheek.

"Pretty good," admitted Justin.

"I got an award for it."

Justin looked at the man beside him and, for the first time, was really aware of him as a person, as someone who had a job and a talent-for something other than fucking-and that people respected him for the work he did. It was a side of Brian that he seldom saw-if ever.

After hitting about ten galleries, they made their way to the West Village and scouted for a place to eat. Every place seemed equal from the outside, so they finally stopped someone on the street and asked him for his suggestion. "Good."

"Good what?" asked Brian.

"That's the name of the restaurant. Good. It's on Greenwich Avenue between 12th and Bank Street. They have a roasted duck quesadilla that is fabulous!" the guy exclaimed.

"Sounds…" Justin paused. "Good."

And it was. Fabulous. Justin had molasses-glazed tuna with collard greens and carrot griddle cakes while Brian sampled the quesadilla with pineapple relish. There were no complaints from their table. Brian, for one, was glad that they still had Soho to explore, otherwise he'd never work off the calories, and he had something special planned for dinner that night.

Walking back up Greenwich Avenue, they took the subway down to Canal Street, got off, and walked up to Wooster to the Drawing Center. Justin's eyes widened and he seemed, to Brian, to be holding his breath. "This place is incredible," he told him. "If I had had a place like this to go to when I was learning to draw…"

"You'd be the toast of the art world today," finished Brian. "Don't worry," he assured him, "your time will come. And we'll be saying we knew you when."

Glancing sideways at Brian as they passed through one of the exhibition spaces, Justin asked, "Do you think…" He hesitated, afraid to go on.

"What?"

"That we'll… that…" He shook his head.

Brian looked away, then back at the teen. Said softly, "I don't know." 

By dinnertime all they wanted was to crawl into bed and rest their bodies for a half hour or so. Taking the F uptown, they got off at the 50th Street station and managed to drag themselves to the hotel and up to their suite. Brushing the Baci Perugina chocolates from their pillows, they collapsed into an exhausted heap.

Two hours later they emerged from the hotel refreshed and ready to take on New York City nightlife. First on the menu was dinner. Brian had already taken care of that. It was, he confessed, the only activity he had arranged without Justin's prior approval. "We've got reservations at Le Cirque 2000," he told the teen and watched his eyes light up. Heedless of the people milling about the sidewalk, Justin gave Brian a huge kiss. Tactfully, the doorman looked away and hailed a cab for them. Although they were in walking distance of the Villard Houses it just wouldn't do to be seen walking to the restaurant.

Dinner was fabulous, but what they had come for was dessert. Jacques Torres was a star pastry chef and, for once, Brian didn't balk at the extra calories. "He'll have the **_Manhattan_** and I'll have the **_Banana Moon Cakes_**." When the two dishes arrived they spent about a minute or so just admiring the artistry of the presentations. Then they dug in, each sampling the other's dessert. Even after they had finished, and paid the check, and left the restaurant, they still recalled in vivid detail the sublime flavors and the whimsical, architectural designs. In the darkness of the cab, Brian kissed Justin and tasted once more the delicious chocolate cake he had eaten.

When Brian had asked him what he wanted to do after dinner, he had expected Justin to say he wanted to go dancing; but, instead, he had wanted to go to the movies. After scouring the papers, they decided on Memento at the Lincoln Plaza Cinemas. Brian thought Carrie-Ann Moss had rocked in The Matrix, and they both declared Guy Pearce to be a total hottie. "Russell Crowe was in L.A. Confidential?" Brian asked. "Don't remember him."

Not wanting to dilute their dining experience with cheap, movie theatre popcorn, they opted for bottled water and settled down to watch the film. Brian was more than a little bemused. Imagine him, in New York City, at the movies, when he could be dancing the night away at some sizzling Gotham club. The guys would never believe it. Then he looked over at Justin, at the way the light from the screen played across his face, highlighting his cheekbones and his beautiful lips, and he found that he had no regrets at all about his choice.

After the movie they strolled down the street and around Lincoln Center, sat on the edge of the fountain and talked about the past two days, Justin excitedly recounting his favorite moments.

"So what do you want to do tomorrow?" Brian asked.

"I wanna do all the things tourists do when they come to New York," he said.

"You do realize," Brian replied, "that means we'll have to actually be around tourists?"

"I'll make sure you behave."

Brian laughed gently. "We have to be at the airport by nine p.m."

"We'll make it," he promised.

Standing, Brian held out his hand and pulled Justin up. "Maybe you should save something for the next time." He released the teen and walked ahead, leaving Justin to ponder his words. Next time? Justin's mind raced. Unfortunately, his feet remained in place. Brian called back over his shoulder, "Come on." 

Brian lowered him to the bed and laid along side him. Ran his fingers through the teen's hair. Drew him closer. Their lips touched in a gentle kiss which grew harder. Justin, his leg over Brian's thigh, exposed his neck to his lover's busy tongue and mouth. At some point he managed to come out of his shirt, giving Brian access to his chest. Mouth slightly open, he sighed as Brian licked his nipples, tugging lightly on the ring through the right one. God, he could feel it in his cock even, it felt like Brian was licking it as well. He worked his trousers open and hoped that Brian would take notice and focus some of his attention there.

Making his way down Justin's torso, Brian smiled when he realized that Justin had anticipated his next move. Sliding the pants down his hips, he removed them entirely as well as the teen's underwear and shoes and socks. "Why do you even bother to put on all this shit?" he asked breathlessly, a silly question since the boy wore no more than he did, no more than was necessary.

Justin replied, "To tease you."

Brian's eyes flared. Pursing his lips, he rose up off the bed and moved a few feet away. Then, assured that he had Justin's attention, he untied his boots and kicked them off. Removed his socks. Paused. Then, one by one, he undid the buttons on his shirt. Turned and let the shirt slide over his shoulders, slowly revealing the muscles in his back. Justin felt his cock twitch, aroused by the play of muscles over bone. Then Brian turned back around and unbuckled his belt, slid it from the loops in his waistband, and dropped it to the floor. He unsnapped his trousers and slowly, so slowly that it seemed to take an entire minute, unzipped them. Let them slip over his hips to pool at his feet. He stepped out of the trousers and kicked them aside. Stood almost naked in his white Calvin Klein mid-thigh underwear. Holding Justin's eyes, he cupped his groin and stroked his still-covered cock for nearly a minute and a half. Justin was mesmerized by the sight of his cock taking on a definite shape beneath his strokes. Then Brian moved closer to the bed breaking the spell. Justin crawled to the foot of the bed and grabbed hold of his waist, opened and closed his mouth over the bulge at Brian's groin. Ravenous, he gorged himself on Brian's cloth-covered cock until the material clung to the other man, wet with saliva, outlining his penis even more clearly. Brian pulled away and hooked his thumbs beneath the waistband of his underwear and eased them down, his brown pubic hair coming slowly into view. And his dick, Justin moaned as his dick was freed from its confines.

Laying head to groin, they fed, one on the other, devouring swollen cocks with abandon. Justin rolled Brian onto his back, his lips closed around the base of Brian's dick and he held it there, the head inside his throat, and licked the topside without moving very much until Brian began to whimper. Letting the shaft slide from between his lips, he applied even greater pressure to the head, hard sucking it before letting it free. Capturing it again and repeating the process until Brian's piss hole gaped open. Then, stiffening his tongue, he dug into the tiny opening, fucking Brian's hole until he reached down and drew him away. They reoriented themselves until they were face to face. Brian asked, slightly dazed, "Where did you learn that?"

Justin whispered, "From you."

As Justin freed himself and crawled between his legs once more, Brian whispered, "Oh, God…"

Justin sucked on his balls, twisting his head and tugging on them until Brian thought he would scream. And then he returned to his cock, licking up the shaft and around the head, sucking on the spot just below the head, where it joined the shaft. Muscles jerking, Brian held onto the sheets as Justin descended between his thighs, pushing his legs apart, and sucking on the part of his dick that extended past his sac. The teen's tongue flicked over his hole and Brian gasped. Again the tongue snaked out and grazed the wrinkled lips of his anus. He felt his hole contract and then relax, open up to Justin's tongue, which coaxed and cajoled him to open wider still.

Opening the nightstand, he felt around inside the drawer for the condoms they had put there the night before. Tearing the package open, he encased his cock in latex and then removed a tube of lube and unscrewed the top. Justin looked up and crawled over him, knees on either side of his waist. He held onto the headboard as Brian pressed the head of the tube against his hole and squeezed. Before the lube had a chance to run down his leg, Brian worked it into his ass with his fingers. Justin lowered himself onto Brian's hand, loving the way the slender digits filled him.

The moment Brian's fingers left his asshole, he positioned himself over his lover's turgid cock and sat down. Brian held onto the base of his dick to hold it steady, hissing as Justin's ass swallowed most of the shaft. They fucked like this for a while, Justin steadying himself with the headboard as he jammed his ass down upon Brian's dick; Brian thrusting upwards, his hands gripping Justin's waist for support.

Without warning, he shifted their positions, tumbling Justin backwards on to the bed, his cock sliding out of his ass. Lifting Justin's legs, he opened the teen's thighs and thrust his cock back inside his hole. Justin, his back arched, gripped Brian's thighs in his hands and held on as they fucked. Crossing his legs around Brian's back, he pumped his hips, working his hole up and down Brian's cock, loving the feel of his pubic hair scratching against the tender skin of his ass. Brian wrapped his hand around his cock and jerked on his pole as they fucked, then curved his back and took Justin's meat into his mouth. Justin cried out as Brian sucked him off, his muscles trembling from the position he was in and from the exquisite blow-job he was receiving. 

 

The next morning they checked out of the hotel, not without a twinge of regret. Their stay had been so magical, they both wondered to themselves if any of the magic would remain once they returned to Pittsburgh. Standing in the foyer of the room, they kissed, holding onto one another fiercely, unwilling to let go of whatever it was they had found here. Neither one of them would give a name to it, but they both knew that this had been something of a honeymoon for them. What would it mean to go home and resume their lives in light of all that had occurred? Could they go back to the way things had been and, if not, could they remain as they were at this moment? Or would they be able to move forward? Thoughts like that were too heavy for this morning, so they put them away and carried their bags downstairs.

Once more they left their luggage with the concierge, planning to return later to claim them on their way to the airport.

After cappuccino and Italian pastries, they took the subway down to Battery Park and stood in line for the ferry to Liberty Island.

"If you're good," Justin told him as they walked across the park to where the ferry disembarked, "there'll be an extra special surprise for you back in Pittsburgh."

Before Brian could answer he saw the line for the ferry. It stretched into eternity. "Fuck!" he swore, earning him a dirty look from a family of breeders from Buttfuck, Iowa, he supposed. Justin gave a weak smile and was rewarded with an even dirtier look which amused Brian to no end. "I guess they figured out we weren't related," he explained. "I wonder what would happen if I kissed you?"

"We're tourists, remember?"

Brian licked his lips. "How special is this surprise?"

Having secured Brian's promise not to make a scene, the ride across the harbor to Liberty Island passed without incident. Brian even told Justin about his family coming over from Ireland during the late 1800's. "Far and Away," he said, referring to the Tom Cruise/Nicole Kidman movie, "was a fucking fairy tale compared to the way it really was."

"My dad's family immigrated from England in 1740," Justin told him. "And my mom's family came over from Sweden in the early 1800's."

Brian ruffled his bangs. "That explains the hair and the eyes."

Waiting for the ferry to dock, Justin asked, "Do you think if we had been born back then, we would have ever met?"

Brian snorted and said with an Irish brogue, "Little Lord Fauntleroy and a dirty Irishman?"

Justin moved closer and whispered, "I like dirty Irishmen," causing Brian to laugh out loud and attract the attention of nearby passengers.

The entire day was a series of photo ops. Brian and Justin looking out of the pedestal at the New York City skyline, and later standing at the bottom of the pedestal; Brian and Justin in the 86th floor observatory of the Empire State Building; Brian and Justin posing by one of the New York Public Library lions; in the main concourse of Grand Central Station; on the steps of St. Patrick's Cathedral; by the statue of Prometheus in Rockefeller Plaza; in front of the Today Show window; at the foot of the one of the neon supersigns in Times Square; and by the fountain in Lincoln Center. 

Justin snuggled up against Brian in the back seat of the limo and watched the city lights pass though the open sunroof.

"So, did you have a good time?" Brian asked needlessly, and Justin didn't answer verbally, only stroked Brian's lips and pulled his head down for a slow, deep kiss. Brian groaned and asked, "Have you ever fucked in a limo before?"

But Justin looked at his watch and said, "No time. We're almost there. Wait until we get home."

Home. Pittsburgh. The end of a dream or the beginning of a new one. 

They pulled up to Deb's house a little before eleven. Sat in the jeep without speaking. Neither of them knew what to say. Finally Justin grabbed his bags from the back. "I guess I should go in."

"Yeah. Deb's probably wondering where you are."

But Justin didn't move. He looked over at Brian, at his stern profile, then cupped his chin and kissed him aside his mouth, not expecting Brian to reciprocate. Only, Brian turned and their lips met in a kiss that refused to end. At last, Brian pulled partially away. "You should probably go-"

"Just drive," Justin commanded, falling back against the seat; and Brian started the ignition and drove. 

"I love you." "I love you." "I love you." The words were whispered as they joined, entangled in the bed sheets, in a whirlwind of emotions. Who was to say who had said what, to whom, or why? The words existed. And, for the moment, that was enough. 

 

_The sleeper stirred, disturbed by the images._

_Michael sat up in bed, brooding. Next to him, David slept on, unaware of his turmoil._

_Forcing herself to lie still so as not to wake Mel, Lindsay stared into the impenetrable darkness._

_She checked the clock and saw that there were hours to go before the sun would rise. Turning the face away, Daphne lay awake, certain that sleep would not come again._

_Of course, his bed was empty; of course, he was with Brian. Deb trudged to the bathroom. As long as she was up…_

_Brian opened his eyes to find Justin staring at him. "What are you doing awake?" he asked. And Justin moved into his arms to share a kiss. "Waiting for you."_


	23. The Last Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian has to let go of the past in order to have a chance at a future with Justin.

Tuesday afternoon at the diner and the guys were warming up to this week's edition of the Gay Grapevine, courtesy of Em, when the topic of juicy gossip turned to none other than the gang's own Satellite of Love, Brian. "So, boys and girls, rumor has it that a certain Casanova is finally settling down. It seems he's been seen in the company of a hot, young thing all over town. Are his tricking days over? The Gay Grapevine is conflicted. What do you think?"

Both Ted and Michael froze, waiting for the tongue-lashing they were sure Brian was going to give Emmett. But they were sadly disappointed. All Brian did was to calmly get up and walk out of the diner without saying a word. Michael slid from the bench and followed, leaving Em and Ted to wonder what the fuck was going on.

"Brian!" Michael called as he reached for the Jeep's handle. "Wait." Brian paused. "He didn't mean anything by it."

"Yeah. He did." He turned and faced Michael.

"So why do you give a fuck? It's not like it's true." He searched Brian's face for any sign of validation. "Is it?"

Brian glanced away. "We both know what happened the last time I went hunting for a mate."

Christ. Michael leaned against the car, lightly touched Brian's arm. "He's not Cam."

"No, he could be worse. Because I should know better. Because when he says that he loves me, I believe him. Because..." He inhaled deeply. "He's so fuckin young, Mikey." Cut away his eyes. "I know that everybody thinks I'm this selfish little shit, and maybe I am, but I never wanted to hurt him."

"Then don't." Brian looked back at him. "Either give him what he wants or let him go."

He shoved his hands into his pockets. "What if I can't do either one?"

"He's not gonna wait forever. No matter how much he wants you." The words came hard to Michael and he almost left Brian then and returned to the diner.

"I didn't ask for this."

"But you let it happen. You let him fall in love with you."

"I don't even know why he loves me."

"You let yourself," he paused, searching for the right words, "you opened yourself up to him." He caught Brian's hand and held it. "And now it's too late to go back and change things. And pretending that nothing's happened won't make Justin or the situation go away. You have to make a decision." 

 

Lindsay opened the door to find Brian there, stubbing out the last of his cigarette in preparation for entering the house. "Well," she began, "this is a surprise."

"I came to see Sonny Boy." He closed the door behind him.

"You're in luck." She raised the baby from where he lay on the sofa and handed him over to his daddy. "He's actually home tonight."

Brian held Gus in his arms and kissed his soft cheek. "Don't worry, you'll be breaking hearts soon enough."

"Like father, like son, huh?" She went into the dining room and grabbed something from the table, brought it back. Brian had already seated himself in his chair. "Look at this." He took it, held it in one hand. It was a sketch of Gus. "Justin did it."

Although his voice was strained, he spoke playfully to the baby. "Is that you, Gus? I think it is. Dadda's beautiful boy. Not bad, huh?" He handed the sketch back to Lindsay. "It's good."

"He's good."

"Yeah." He sat back in the chair and cradled the baby in the crook of his arm. "Why do I feel a lecture coming on?"

Putting the sketch on the coffee table, she plopped down on the sofa. "At first I thought it was just infatuation, just a crush. But it's more than that. He really cares for you. And I think he's good for you. Although he's quite a bit younger."

"We're not getting married."

"No. But there's more to this than just fucking. Everyone can see it. Even you. What would it hurt to admit that you're in a-"

"Don't."

With a start Lindsay realized that he was serious, that she had inadvertently touched on something painful. "Bri?" He wouldn't meet her eyes, kept his focused on Gus. "Bri, it's all right."

"No. It isn't. It's totally fucked." He stood and handed her the baby, wandered around the room, touching the bracelet he wore every now and then although he seemed to be unaware of doing so. Lindsay noticed it however.

"You think about him a lot, don't you? About Cam?"

She thought he would try to deny it, but he didn't. "Sometimes I look at Justin and I don't see him. I see myself. With Cam. And I know that it's not the same, I know that, but I can't help it."

"You need to let him go."

"I have," he protested.

"Truth time." He returned to his chair and sat, staring down at his hands. "Do you love Justin?"

He was silent for so long she thought that he would never answer, that he would just get up and go, leave the question hanging between them. And then he spoke. Softly. "I don't know."

"You need to close the door on Cam," she advised.

"You're talking about closure." He chuckled. "Fuckin daytime TV."

She blushed. Both Brian and Mel had ragged her for watching way too many talk shows during her maternity leave. "I'm serious. You won't ever be able to move forward until you end it with him."

"In case you haven't noticed, he's not here."

Lindsay trapped and held his gaze. "Yes, he is."

And there was nothing he could say. 

 

Deb and Vic had gone to the movies, leaving Justin alone in the house. He had tried to reach Brian at home and on his cellphone to no avail. Having resigned himself to a night of excruciating boredom, he was surprised to hear someone come in the front door. It had to be one of the guys. Looking up, expecting Michael, his jaw nearly dropped when he saw that it was Brian.

"Hey," he said, eyes shifting the way they did when he had something to say and couldn't.

Justin took his empty plate to the sink. "Hey." Waited for Brian to make the next move.

He glanced around the living room. "Deb and Vic gone?"

"Movies."

He nodded. Took a deep breath and let it out. Then asked, "How long would you wait?"

Justin was genuinely confused. "For what?"

Without looking at him, he answered, "For me."

For a moment he couldn't speak. The topic of conversation had thrown him. He and Brian had playfully skirted around the issue of a relationship-him pushing, Brian retreating-and each time they had left themselves a way out of making any kind of commitment to one another. And, now, here was Brian bringing it up. How long would he wait? "Forever," he replied. And it was the truth. No matter how long it took.

"There're easier guys."

Justin could see how much the words cost him and he wanted to go to him and hold him but he didn't because he knew that right now Brian was skittish and any overture on his part might drive him away for good. "I don't want easier. I want you." Brian started for the door. "Where are you going?"

"Home," he said without turning around.

"Can I come?"

He paused, wanting to say, 'Yes. Come with me and keep me company, keep me from thinking about anything.' But Justin was one of the reasons his thoughts were so screwed up in the first place. "Not tonight. I just-I need to be by myself," he finished quietly. Then he slipped out into the night.

Left alone again, Justin didn't know whether to be ecstatic or despondent. That Brian had come over and said any of those things to him meant that he was thinking about them, about their future as a couple; but something else was bothering him, something he felt he couldn't share with Justin and that made the teen all the sadder because it meant that they still had so far to go. 

 

He had placed the joint and the bottle of Jim Beam within arm's reach but hadn't touched them since. Any other night he would have welcomed the oblivion of a good high. But not tonight. He had decisions to make and he needed a clear head. Only, the problem with having a clear head was that there was nowhere to run from your thoughts. Around every corner was a truth he didn't want to face. He wrapped his arms around his bare torso. Glanced at the clock. God, the night was so long; yet still not long enough to keep the day from coming, if he really meant to do what he knew he should. 

 

Cameron looked up to see Brian coming through the door. "Bri? Christ."

"Yeah, well, not quite," Brian replied. He took a seat across from Cameron on the other side of his desk.

"How long-"

"Let's not do banal, okay? We both know how long it's been." Brian made a visuual sweep of Cam's office. Not bad. Not as tasteful as his own.

"So why now?" asked Cam. That he had remained calmly seated behind his desk was a testament to his years in marketing. He could sell anything, even the idea that he wasn't affected by Brian's appearance.

Brian started to answer, "Could-" Stopped and started again. "I..." Hesitated. Then managed to ask, "Could you come by my place tonight?"

"For what?"

"To talk," he replied, rising from his seat. He couldn't have sat a moment longer, looking over at Cam. His ex-lover was still beautiful, still alluring. He had felt the strands of desire tightening around him once more. Moving about the office, his eyes alighting on random objects, he was free again.

For his part, Cam was glad he had decided to get up, as it released him as well. He would never have guessed that seeing Brian again would affect him so. It was all he could do not to touch him, to kiss him, make love to him. "You were never big on talking."

"Still not." He looked directly into Cam's eyes, to let him know how serious this was. "But it can't be helped. And we can't talk about it here."

Cam studied Brian for a long moment and then pushed a pad and a pen towards the edge of his desk. "Give me your address." 

 

So Cam was coming and he still wasn't sure if he could do it, wasn't quite sure what it was. All he knew was that this was his chance to be free, maybe his last chance, cause he didn't think he could go through this again. And once he was free of Cam, then what? The path didn't automatically lead from Cam to Justin, and if it did, it would be by a circuitous route and not the straight and narrow.

At the appointed time, Cam arrived. Made the usual appreciative remarks about the loft, which Brian heard and didn't hear, and then fell silent. Waiting for Brian to reveal his intentions.

Brian offered him a seat which Cam didn't take.

"I'm here. Now what?" he asked, coming to the point.

"I ran into your partner once. At a restaurant." A lame beginning but he didn't know how else to start.

"I know. He told me."

And that hurt. "Of course. You share everything."

Cam knew that he had been wounded, but he wouldn't lie to ease the pain. "We try to be honest with one another."

He reacted as he always did when he was hurt, by attacking. "Did you tell him who I was?"

There was nothing else to say. "No."

"So much for honesty," he quipped.

"It wasn't important," Cam clarified and Brian felt as if someone had struck him.

"Well, there's my answer. Thanks for dropping by." He turned, but Cam spoke.

"I never stopped loving you."

That enraged him. "Son of a bitch! Don't you fuckin say that to me." Then, suddenly, he found it difficult to breathe.

"We happened at the wrong time-" Cam began.

"Get out."

"You invited me here to talk. I'm just trying to be honest."

"You were always honest, weren't you? After the fuckin fact."

"Is this what you wanted to see me for? Bri, it's been over for almost seven years."

"You're right," he said, walking away from Cam towards the door.

"I hated hurting you."

"Not as much as I did!" he yelled, whipping around to face Cam.

Cam took a step backwards, paused. Regrouped. "It was for the best. Neither one of us was ready. We needed to grow up."

"Yeah. You grew up and found a partner for life and I-" He couldn't say it, couldn't admit that his life was a mess. "Just go," he said softly. Shook his head. "...a fuckin stupid idea."

"I used to hear rumors about you. Stories. About this hot guy going through the ranks like a knife through butter. I used to wonder if you were happy. If you were happier that way."

Brian's voice dropped about thirty degrees. "What do you think?" And then his chest tightened and he couldn't say anything else.

"Bri?" Cam moved closer to him, but Brian backed away. He stumbled over to the window and stared out of it. Cam watched as his shoulders began to shake and despite the private resolution he had made, he found himself going over to Brian and taking him in his arms. Brian pulled away, angry. "I'm sorry. I did love you. I loved you more than anything in this world. And leaving you was the hardest thing I ever had to do. But, Bri, you know it was the right thing to do. Can you imagine committing to someone right now? The way you live your life?"

"You don't know shit about me," Brian growled.

"The clubs, the drugs, the tricks. Have I left anything out?" Brian looked away. Suddenly Cam understood why he was here. "There is someone, isn't there?" When Brian didn't answer, he continued. "If there is, think about what you're doing, Bri. Don't lie to him and tell him what he wants to hear just because you don't want to hurt him. Because that's exactly what you'll be doing: hurting him. The way I hurt you. And it was killing me. Killing both of us. And I couldn't do it anymore." Cam felt the tears roll down his cheeks. "I know you don't believe me but, Bri, I want you to be happy. If this guy makes you happy, then go for it. Only, don't lie to yourself about what it is you want. What you need. If it's not the right time, nothing you do can change that."

Cam caught him by the wrist before Brian could move out of reach. His fingers closed around the cowry shell bracelet he had given him years ago. To Brian it felt as if he were being burned, but he said nothing, riding out the pain. And then Cam turned his wrist over and began to untie the laces. For a moment, Brian started to object and then he realized that it was what they both needed, to be free of the past. So he allowed Cam to remove the leather band. Kissing Brian's palm, Cam dropped the bracelet into his hand. Closed Brian's fingers over it. He leaned over and kissed Brian's lips gently, savoring the touch. "Bye."

He stood holding on to the bracelet for the longest time after Cam departed. Then he crossed to his desk and laid the band upon it, reached for the telephone, and made a call. 

 

Justin closed the door to the loft and joined Brian at the dining table. "Hey."

"Hey."

"What's up?" Justin asked and Brian laughed. Then sniffled. "Brian?"

He looked away and then back again at the teen. "Just-listen, okay? And don't interrupt because I don't think I could-I just need to do this." He paused and Justin waited. "My last year of college, I met someone. His name was Cameron and he was a marketing major." Brian found that he couldn't go on, not yet. He was dizzy with memories. Remembering the first time they had made love, their first argument, first dinner together

Justin thought that he would explode. Brian had been in a relationship? With some guy named Cameron. Brian? In love? At first he was just dumbfounded and then he became angry. Angry because Brian had never told him, angry because he was always pooh-poohing love as if he had never been affected, and here he was seven years later still thinking about this guy.

Brian stood and walked from the table. Continued. "We fell in love and for a while, it was like the movies. Fuckin love in the afternoon. I loved him more than anything. I thought we would be together forever." He sat on the edge of the shelf that ran around the outside of his bedroom. "But forever... He..." He rubbed his brow. "He was cheating on me and I found out. We fought, he promised not to do it anymore, and then he did."

Unable to imagine what kind of person would cheat on Brian and with whom, Justin sat and waited for Brian to go on with his story, cause there had to be more. Only, Brian didn't seem to be able to continue. He sat on the ledge staring at nothing, pain etched on his face. Justin didn't think it would be a good idea to approach him, but he did turn towards Brian and move his chair just slightly, just enough to jolt the man from his thoughts. Brian's head jerked. "Are you all right?" Justin asked.

"Yeah." He licked his lips. "Anyway, in the end, he left. He said it was for the best." Brian raked back his hair. "And it was." He reached into his pocket and removed his bracelet. Justin hadn't even noticed that he wasn't wearing it. He tossed it onto the table. "He gave me that. The night he promised to love me forever." He rose, not sure where he was going or what he would do once he got there. "So much for promises."

Justin hesitated to touch the bracelet, and then he picked it up and studied it. He had seen it so many times around Brian's wrist and yet it seemed something anew, having taken on a greater significance. Seizing the bracelet, he crossed to where Brian stood. "I won't make any promises I can't keep," he said. "And I won't ask you for any. But I love you. And I'll wait for you, no matter how long it takes. That's all I know." He placed the band around Brian's wrist and tied it back on. "I like the way it looks on you." He raised Brian's hand and kissed his palm, unwittingly echoing Cam's gesture. "But it's just a bracelet, that's all. Okay?"

Brian cupped his face in his hands, his fingers spread over Justin's cheek. Laid his forehead against the teen's. A tear fell from Brian's eye and landed next to Justin's lips. He kissed Justin, kissed the tear away, and felt the teen smile. After a moment, he smiled in return. But there were still things that needed to be said. He held Justin's face and stared into his beautiful, blue eyes. "Don't let me hurt you. No matter what."

Justin nodded solemnly. "I won't."

Brian laughed although there was more sadness than joy about its tone. "Liar."

"Then don't hurt me," Justin countered.

Instead of answering, Brian gathered the teenager in his arms and held him, trembling, knowing that he held something so precious that if he were to lose him, it would be as if he had lost part of his soul.

Justin looked up at Brian. Whispered, "Make love to me."

Tenderly, Brian entered him, and paused, savoring the feel of Justin's body around him, beneath him. Then he felt Justin's hand on his flank, urging him to continue, so he resumed his journey, almost completely penetrating him. Justin's head lolled about on the pillow, his blond hair bright against the dark grey material. He exhaled and smiled, his lips quivering a little. Brian kissed him, their mouths barely touching. And then Justin arched his back, driving Brian in to the hilt. He tightened around him, keeping him in place. Again Brian kissed him, this time harder, longer, his tongue seeking out the inner recesses of his mouth. He rocked against the teen, then began a long, slow withdrawal, one which left them both breathless at its completion. He remained inside him, just the head, but that was enough to retain that feeling of togetherness.

"Uhh ahh," Justin moaned, as Brian worked his way back inside of him. Hands resting lightly on Brian's arms, he could feel the power in his lover's body, a power that was directed at pleasing him. His legs slipped from Brian's shoulders, and Brian shifted position, gathered them in his hands, holding him wide open, on his knees now, establishing a regular pattern of thrusts and withdrawals.

Brian looked down at where they were joined; watching his flesh enter Justin's caused a white hot spasm of pleasure to erupt from the depths of his belly. That Justin trusted him enough to invite him inside of his body He had never thought of it before. Not even during their discussions about Daphne had it occurred to him that Justin might have felt the same way, that each time he allowed Brian access to his body, it was an act of faith.

Attentive to Justin's every shift in mood, in expression, Brian adjusted his strokes, his timing, the depth of his thrusts. Although he was normally a conscientious partner, he redoubled his efforts this time. Before Justin asked him to do anything, he divined the need and met it. Knowing how much Justin loved to feel his hands on his ass as they fucked, he altered their positions again so that he was kneeling behind him. His hands roamed the teenager's ample buttocks, stroking, kneading his flesh until it was rosy. And Justin, Justin moaned in ecstasy, the twin sensations of Brian being deep inside him and simultaneously touching his skin cinching him tight in the throes of passion.

Lowering their bodies to the bed, Brian lay crossways over Justin and, supporting himself on his arms, pumped his hips in a frenzied motion. Justin reached back, feeling the sweat-slicked mound of Brian's ass as it rose and fell. He could feel Brian's sac slapping against his buttocks, full, firm.

Brian moved again, bringing his body parallel with Justin's. They struggled against one another, to get closer, to hold tighter. Brian cried out as Justin gripped him along the length of his shaft, the teen in the midst of the first spasm of his orgasm. 

 

Justin realized that Brian wasn't in bed the moment he opened his eyes. He hunted for the light blue robe Brian had bought him, saying, "You'll catch cold walking around naked all the time," and went in search of his absent lover. Found him sitting on the sofa with an untouched shot of whiskey on the coffee table. Justin pearched next to him without saying anything. Brian had turned when he first heard the teen approach, now he returned his gaze to the images inside his head. They remained like that for a few minutes, Brian deep in thought and Justin watching him with worry. Then Brian exhaled and lay his head upon Justin's lap, the rest of him curled up on the cushions. Justin stroked his hair, feeling him tremble. "Have you ever watched The Yellow Submarine?"

Brian laughed and, although it was strangled, Justin could hear the amusement in his voice too. "No."

"Well," he began, still stroking his hair, "it starts out like this..."

And Brian lay with his head in Justin's lap and listened while he related the Beatles' adventures beneath the sea and, after a while, the teenager's steady, soothing voice and the comforting feel of his fingers combing through his hair lulled him to sleep.


	24. The Body Remembers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth about The Most Famous Shower Scene Since Psycho.

...those desires- how they glowed,   
remember, in the eyes gazing at you;   
how they trembled in the voice, for you, remember, body. 

 

He turned over onto his belly, could feel the sweat trickling down the middle of his back. Pinned down inside a dream, it was the most he could do to escape, and not nearly enough.

_Standing in the rain. Water falling upon his upturned face. The sound of a thousand pairs of wings enveloping him. A bright light blinds him._

Moaning, he sat up, awake, a cry on his lips which he barely stifled in time. His heart raced. Beside him, Justin stirred. Awoke. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Throwing back the sheet, he mumbled, "Nothing." Then, sharply, "Don't touch me!" as Justin reached for him. The teen snatched back his hand. As if he had startled himself, Brian rose suddenly and stumbled towards the bathroom. Paused in the doorway and leaned against the frame, trembling.

A worried tone colored Justin's voice. "Brian?" He wanted to go to him but made himself stay put in bed.

"Go to sleep," he grumbled and entered the bathroom. Turned on the faucet. The sound of the water hurled him back into his dream and, for a moment, he couldn't see anything, a square of emptiness unfolded before him and expanded with a snap until it whited out everything else. He grabbed the sink to steady himself. Glimpsed his face in the mirror. He was as pale as the Italian modern furniture that populated his loft. His skin felt cold and clammy. He turned off the faucet. Heard Justin approaching before he turned.

"Can I come in?" Justin asked, hovering on the periphery of the bathroom.

"I'm okay," Brian assured him although his voice failed to inspire confidence in his partner.

"You look like shit."

Brian stared down at the empty basin, his attention drawn to the black hole of the drain. He swayed and caught himself, but Justin was also there, his arm around his waist. Brian shook him off, unable to stop himself from shuddering.

"Tell me!" Justin pleaded.

But Brian could only shake his head and back away. He sat on the toilet lid and raked his hair from his forehead. His hand shook. He shivered as if he had been caught out in the rain on a cold day.

Justin lay awake, aware of Brian's every movement. He could see him pacing in the living room. Then he stopped. Stood in front of the window. Drew back the curtain. Let it fall, its gauzy material obscuring his view of the world. Finally, he sat in an armchair, a forgotten shot of whiskey on the table before him. That Brian hadn't taken a sip was further proof of his agitated state. Justin watched as he slowly succumbed to exhaustion, his head falling forward, senses plunging into unawareness, body claimed by sleep. And then he jerked awake again and looked around in alarm, as if he had forgotten where he was, expected to be somewhere else. He rubbed his lower face and stood. Made a bee line for the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet. Shook a couple of pills from a bottle and cupped his hand beneath the spigot. Caught a palm full of water and took the pills. Without a word of explanation, he climbed back into bed and turned onto his side. Justin cut off the lamp nearest him and settled down. Dawn would arrive soon enough. 

 

Emmett, Ted, and Michael were already seated by the time Brian arrived. He had gone home and changed into his play clothes although he lacked the usual sparkle which appeared in his eye whenever he was anticipating a night of food, fun, and fucking. Instead, he slumped down in the booth next to Em, not bothering to glance at the menu. Emmett caught Justin's eye as he appeared with another glass of water. "How about you give Papa a break and let him actually sleep a few nights a week?"

Instead of smiling, Justin replied, "I didn't keep him up."

"Oops," smirked Em. "Maybe that's the problem."

As Ted and Michael grinned, Brian turned to Justin. "Chef salad." He paused. "I'm not going out tonight."

Justin gathered the menus. "Okay." Left.

Ted looked after the departing teen. "Room service. Must be nice."

When the expected, 'Fuck you,' didn't materialize, they all stared at Brian, worry creasing their brows. He felt their scrutiny. "What?"

Cutting off Michael, Ted said, "Did you ever notice in Godzilla films how he slept until someone woke him up and **then** he stomped the shit out of Tokyo?"

"Yeah?" replied Michael.

"Let him sleep."

Emmett smiled. Caught Brian's eye. "You all right?"

"Yeah," he answered. Stood. Stopped Justin on this way to serve someone their dinner. "Bring it when you come," he said, stuffing money in Justin's pocket. He left without another word.

"What the fuck?" asked Michael.

Justin, hands full of food, shrugged, unwilling to share Brian with Michael, now that Brian had decided who it was he needed to comfort him. 

 

_Rain falling on his face. A thousand, invisible birds fluttering around him. And the sun blinding his eyes._

With a cry he awoke. Justin turned over, eyes open, afraid to say anything, to move for fear of sparking his anger. But he was too shaken to flare up at anyone. Saying nothing, Brian left the bed, grabbing his robe as he did, and padded on bare feet into the living room. Justin sat up in bed, arms wrapped around his knees. After a moment he got up too, naked, and joined Brian. Said not a word, just put on a CD, volume turned down low, and sat on the far end of the sofa.

Without turning, Brian said, "I don't know what it is, so don't ask me."

Although he hated to suggest it, he did. "You want me to call Michael?"

"What's he gonna do? Hold my hand while I sleep?"

"I'll hold your hand." He crawled closer now that the acute crisis was over. "Or anything else you want me to," he added, blue eyes dark with mischief.

"I just want to get some rest," Brian said, weariness permeating every breath.

Justin got the bottle of sleeping pills, removed a pint of mineral water from the fridge. Brought both to Brian who accepted them with undisguised relief. "Don't let me oversleep," he told Justin as he washed down two of the pills.

Leading Brian back to bed, Justin promised that he wouldn't, double-checking the alarm clock to make sure. 

 

Despite his promises, Justin had found it difficult to rouse Brian from his drug-induced slumber, so that he arrived in his office a little later than usual. Cynthia was already there with his appointment book in her hands. Before he could set his briefcase down she had begun reciting today's appointments. "Your meeting with Ryder's been pushed up-"

"Fuck!" He had forgotten about that meeting. Most of the time Ryder gave his people free rein to do their jobs but sometimes he slipped into micromanaging mode, especially when it came to top-priority accounts and the Old Pitt account was a biggie. So far nothing they'd done had improved sales; Brian could have told them that they were wasting both their money and time because nothing would improve their sales. The problem was their product sucked. And not in a good way. It was worse than piss. At least with piss you might actually have a chance to get it from the source. "The only way we could sell Old Pitt would be if we sent the model out to give free blowjobs to everyone who bought a case of that shit," he growled. "What's the word on it?" he asked, referring to the agency's rumor mill.

"That you fucked the model and the sales rep from Old Pitt," she grinned. "Which you did."

"That had nothing to do with business."

Cynthia closed the book. "You fucked the sales rep in the company bathroom. And you did the model at the photo shoot."

He took out his notes for the campaign. "When's the meeting?"

"Forty-five minutes. And I'll bring in a pot of coffee," she offered as she left. "You look like you've been out prowling around all night." 

 

Fifteen minutes into the meeting Brian knew his ass was in a sling. Ryder looked pissed. Probably had heard the rumors about him doing the sales rep. Who had yet to meet either of their eyes. Fuck it, he had only done the guy once. Married men were the worse. Once they got a taste of the good life, it was hard to go back to the suburbs. So he made it a firm rule never to do a married guy more than once. Now, the model, he had fucked at both photo shoots. Said it improved his performance. Whatever. He remembered it had rained that day and he'd come from outside of the building-

Water falling on his face-

"Brian?" Ryder leaned forward, alarmed by the way the ad exec's face suddenly turned bone white.

The room stopped spinning long enough for him to get his bearings. Everyone was staring at him. He hoped he hadn't said anything during the episode. It happened so fast, or seemed to happen so fast, he thought he was safe.

Then Ryder spoke again. "I think we should postpone this meeting until Brian's feeling better."

Shit. What had he done?

After the team from Old Pitt had gone, Ryder called him into his office. "I don't know what you're on-"

"I'm not on anything. I've been having trouble sleeping-"

"When? In between fucking and clubbing?"

Biting back his first response, Brian took a deep breath. "I've been having these dreams. I can't seem to get much sleep."

As if he completely understood, Ryder asked, "Dreams about what?"

Feeling foolish, Brian replied, "Rain. I've been dreaming about rain." 

 

Which was why he was now sitting in a therapist's office. Ryder had been adamant in his instructions. "Go see someone and get it taken care of. I don't want any repeats of today."

Like what? Like this therapist was going to listen to his dream, tell him what it meant, and everything would be back to normal? How could this guy know what his dream meant? He didn't even know. What a total waste of time, time he could have been spending at the gym, or Woody's, or at work trying to salvage the Old Pitt campaign. By the time the receptionist showed him into the inner sanctum, he was ready to tear someone's head off.

And the prime candidate sat in front of him, hands lightly resting on the arms of an easy chair. Brian took the one opposite the therapist. Checked him out. Not bad looking. Not a hottie either. Kind of like Ted. Same fashion sense too. A sweater vest over an Oxford and a pair of Dockers. Brian shuddered. He didn't know what he'd do if he couldn't afford to wear an Armani suit at least twice a week. And his shoes... The guy was definitely a card carrying member of Homo Normalis as Em called them, normal looking gay guys who could pass for straight and, not only straight, but boring straight.

"I'm Dr. Becker, but you can call me Drew," he said interrupting Brian's thoughts. "So, Brian-can I call you Brian?"

Brian shrugged. If he had to.

"So, Mr. Kinney, what's the problem?"

Brian crossed his legs and leaned back in the chair. "I've been having dreams. A dream. Every night this week."

Indicating his pad and pencil. "You mind?" Brian shook his head. "What happens in the dream?"

"I'm standing outside in the rain. It's falling on my face. I can hear birds flying around my head. Then everything goes white and I wake up." Said like that, it sounded harmless, even charming, but the hairs on Brian's arms stood up and he felt a little nauseous.

Dr. Becker must have observed his discomfort because he leaned forward and reached for Brian but the ad exec pulled away, not wanting to be touched. "It's okay," the therapist assured him. "Just take a deep breath." Brian did so and felt a little calmer but not much. "Let me tell you what I think."

Out of patience with the entire process, Brian circumvented Becker's spiel. "I know what you think. You think the dreams stand for something else, and I'm repressing it. You think that if we decode the symbols in the dream, we'll figure out why I'm having them. You think the dreams are symptomatic of a deeper problem."

Drew put aside his pad and pencil. "Must have gotten an A in Psych 101." Brian raised an eyebrow. "I got a B plus." The unexpected disclosure made Brian chuckle. "But you're right. I think the dream stands for something else. Something maybe that happened to you and you don't remember it. At least not consciously."

Brian pressed his lips together, then smiled. "See, Doc, problem is, I remember everything that's ever happened to me. I don't hide shit from myself. What's the point? I've never done anything that I've wanted to forget. Good, bad, or neutral."

"Rare individual."

A little angry that he was being patronized, Brian replied, "I face things head on. So how do we find out what the dreams mean?" 

 

Brian slid open the door to find Mikey on the other side. Which he had expected. Leaving him, he went to the fridge and got out two beers. Passed one to Michael.

"So where were you?" Michael asked. They sat at the dining table.

"Had to go to a therapist."

Michael nearly spat out his beer. "A what?"

"Ryder made me do it. I totally fucking spaced out during a meeting and he freaked."

"So what'd the guy say?"

"That I'm hot," teased Brian.

"Besides that, asshole." Michael knew he was joking but he also knew that the guy probably did think Brian was hot. Everybody did.

"I've been having these dreams. The same one. That's why I can't sleep." Brian knocked back about a fourth of his beer. "He thinks the dream is a metaphor for something else. Something that's happened to me."

"What do you think?"

"That it's total fucking bullshit," he said, suddenly angry at Ryder for making him go through with it. Then he calmed down. "But it's driving me crazy, Mikey. I can't sleep unless I take something and then I'm so fucking groggy in the morning, I can hardly see straight."

Michael was amazed. "You'd think after all the drugs you've taken, a couple of sleeping pills wouldn't do shit to your system."

"You'd think," agreed Brian. He set his beer down and stared at his hands.

Michael laid a hand upon Brian's. "It'll be okay.

"Yeah," Brian replied but neither of them was fooled. 

 

"Tell me what you see," Drew instructed.

Brian had gone under quickly, much faster than the therapist had anticipated. People with such strong egos rarely made good subjects for hypnosis because their need for total control usually precluded giving anyone else even temporary authority over their psyches. But Brian had surprised him by sliding under almost immediately. That was a good sign. It meant he actually wanted to get to the root of the problem. "Tell me what you see," Drew prompted again.

"I'm standing outside. And it's raining. I can feel the rain on my face."

"How does it feel?"

Brian turned his face towards the ceiling. "Warm. It...it feels warm," and he began to shudder and fought to catch his breath.

"Brian, it's okay. I'm going to bring you out of it now. Okay? On the count of three. One. Two. Three."

He opened his eyes, moist at the corners. There was a wild look in his eyes.

But Drew talked to him, calmed him more with the timbre of his voice than with anything he said. Like Justin sometimes did, talking about school or his future plans.

When he felt normal again, he asked, "What the fuck happened to me?"

"You were trying to remember something but you couldn't. Not all of it."

Bringing his hands to his face, he touched his skin cautiously. "I remember the rain. The rain was warm." And one of the tears held in abeyance fell, streaking his cheek. 

 

Brian had told him that he wasn't in the mood to play but he hadn't forbidden him to come over. Now, lying next to him as he tossed about in an uneasy sleep, Justin was glad that he had done so. Even if they hadn't fucked, only watched TV together and gone to bed. Brian moaned in his sleep but he was under too deep, the sleeping pills had done their work too well, and he struggled against their hold, wanting to escape his dream and unable to do so on his own. Justin grabbed hold of his shoulder and shook him. "Brian? Brian, wake up." He shook harder.

_And the rain fell. Hot now. Scalding him. So hot it stripped skin from flesh. He looked down and saw the white of his bones and screamed._

"Brian!"

Justin's voice jolted him out of his nightmare. Only this time, instead of pushing Justin away, he crawled into his arms and lay shivering against the teen's warmth. 

 

"Imagine that you're watching someone else. Someone else is standing in the rain. Tell me what you see."

"He's standing in the rain. And it's warm." He paused. "Like a shower. I can see the sun but it looks different."

"How?"

"It's dark. And it has holes in it. The rain is coming out of the sun." His lips began to tremble.

"Remember, it's not you. You're just watching," cautioned Drew.

"He's standing in the rain and he can hear a sound. Like a thousand birds flying around his head. Like a waterfall. Or thunder. Like like blood rushing from your head. And there's something white. A white square. And it snaps open and everything goes white."

"How does it snap open?"

"It just does. Someone snaps it open and everything goes white."

"Someone? Brian, who? Who snaps it open? Is it the man standing in the rain?"

Brian hid his face and murmured, "Not a man. A boy." Tears fell alongside his nose. "It's a boy."

Drew called him back. "I want you to be calm when you wake up. Understand? Calm. On the count of three. One. Two. Three."

Brian opened his eyes and closed them again. "No," he whispered. "No." He rose on unsteady legs.

"Brian."

But he continued walking, hurried past the receptionist, and into the men's room. Went inside a stall and sat on the toilet, covering his face with his hands. He shook all over, tears coursing down his face. And over and over he whispered the same thing, "No. I remember. I remember. No..." 

 

 _The rain ran down his body, loosening his skin. It slipped from him and pooled at his ankles. Looking down at his hands, he saw his muscles. And then the sun burned the flesh from his bones and he was just a skeleton standing in the rain._

 

Haggard, he took his accustomed seat across from Drew. But refused to look up at him. Softly, Drew asked, "How are you?"

"They're getting worse."

"I know."

"I want them to stop."

Drew reached for his coin. "Are you ready to go under again?"

He raised his head and looked at the boy standing in the rain. At himself standing in the rain. His face turned towards the sun. And the rain poured from holes in the sun. He watched as the boy cowered, the sound of birds flying filling his head until it felt like it would burst. And then a square of whiteness appeared and snapped open and whiteness obscured his sight, hiding everything from view.

"Look deeper," Drew said. "Closer. Look closer."

He turned away, not wanting to see.

"Look at him," Drew instructed him. "Tell me what you see."

He saw

"I see me in the shower. The water is warm. I can feel it on my face and hands and arms. But not on all of me cause I still have my clothes on." He turned away again and once more Drew coaxed him into taking another look. "Water is falling from the sun. From holes in the sun." Understanding flashed across his features. "From holes in the shower head. The sunlight's hitting it and bouncing off the metal."

"What else, Brian?"

God, him leaning against the wall, his chinos around his ankles, and his gym teacher on his knees sucking him off. The blood rushing to his cock and he felt dizzy, could hear the blood in his veins. It sounded like

"Like a waterfall. Like birds flying around my head." His face was wet with sweat and tears.

Drew paused, unsure as to how far to push him today, but there was one more image to decipher. "What about the whiteness? Do you see the white square?"

He nodded. The white square in the man's hands. It unfolds with a snap, obscuring his vision as he kneels on the floor watching his teacher unfold a towel.

"I'm bringing you back. On the count of three. One. Two. Three." Brian opened his eyes and stared into Drew's soft brown ones. The therapist could see the turmoil in his hazel eyes, dark, like storm clouds. "Brian-"

He shook his head. "I don't want to do this anymore." He closed his eyes. "Not today." 

 

Michael looked around to see Brian coming into his old room, Justin's room now. Without saying hello, Brian plopped down on the bed, not paying any attention to what Michael was doing. Then he spoke. "I called your place and the Doc said you were here, picking up some more of your stuff."

"Yeah, Ma says Justin needs more space. I swear, his wardrobe is almost as big as yours. No wonder the two of you couldn't stay in the same apartment." Brian said nothing. Michael laid down a model airplane he had found in a box in the back of the closet. "What is it?"

And Brian began to cry. Taking him in his arms, Michael held him as he wept. And wiped his tears when he was through. And listened to his story with growing horror. When Brian was done, he gave a choked laugh. "It's like I don't know who I am. I can't even trust my memories." Shook his head. "I didn't remember, Mikey. I swear. How do I know if anything is true, if I don't even remember?"

"But you did remember. Somewhere inside of you, you remembered the truth."

"So I live my life hoping that my body remembers? Is that all I am? A body with secrets?" Folding his arms across his chest, he tried to regain his composure, lost it again. Stood, out of patience with himself, and let the tears flow down his face, his back to Michael. "I came here. Afterwards. I remember."

"I don't."

"You weren't home. No one was home." He brushed at the curtain, setting it aflutter. "I sat in the backyard for an hour, waiting. Wearing wet clothes. And then I got scared. Cause I knew if Deb saw me, she would know something was wrong. So I went home. I ran all the way home, terrified that everyone was looking at me, that they all knew what I had done."

Angrily, Michael refuted his words. "You didn't do anything!"

"I snuck upstairs," he continued, "and I ran some water in the tub, and I just sat there. And the longer I sat, the less I remembered, until my mom called me, and I didn't remember anything the way it happened."

Michael stood and laid his head upon Brian's back, embraced him; gradually, Brian turned and wrapped his arms around Michael's waist, and they remained like that, taking and giving comfort the way they had so many other times. "What am I gonna do?" Brian asked and Michael said, "Shh." Brushed his hair. "Don't think about it. Not now."

Having heard voices, Justin went up to investigate. Saw Brian and Michael at the window, oblivious to the world, arms about one another: past, present and future in one moment. How could he have ever thought otherwise? Turning from the door, he eased back downstairs, his heart aching.

He ran down the street until his chest tightened and then he leaned his back against a tree, in some stranger's front yard, and cried silently for being too late, for being a stupid kid who had fallen in love with a man who could never love him, for being someone other than Michael, and for the gap of years that he could never get around. Or through. Or over. But he didn't have any choice, because those were all things he couldn't change. Not one damn bit. 

 

For two days he stayed away from Brian, avoiding anything more than casual contact each time they met at the diner. For his part, Brian seemed to be avoiding him as well. That suited him just fine. Or so he told himself. And then on the third day Brian came inside the diner and sat at the counter. Taking out his pad, he waited for Brian to say what he wanted. But he didn't say anything, just sat on the bar stool taking deep breaths as if he needed to wait until he had enough oxygen to speak. And then Justin remembered the dreams. Remembered how stricken Brian had been by them. And the anger and bitterness fell from him like autumn leaves. "Are you okay?"

"I need... I need to see you." He didn't look at Justin. "Tonight."

Brian had never said that he needed Justin in any way. And yet he had looked haunted as he spoke. "I can come over after work. I get off in an hour."

Nodding, Brian got up and left. 

 

Now that Justin was there, Brian found that he couldn't begin. God, there were so many things he had to say and none of them easy. Already he could feel the tears forming in his eyes. Afraid that if he waited any longer, he'd be bawling like Gus, Brian asked, "Do you remember me telling you about my first time?"

Justin grinned despite his apprehension. "The Most Famous Shower Scene since Psycho?" But Brian didn't grin in return. Instead, he looked as if he were going to break down. Justin fought the impulse to touch him. "Brian?"

"That's not what happened," he said softly. "I... I didn't remember until this week." A muscle in his jaw tightened but he forced his mouth to open. "I didn't go down on him. He sucked me off."

Justin couldn't understand. What did it matter? It was still pretty wild, a fourteen-year-old boy and a grown man.

"You asked me if I was scared and I told you I didn't remember." He paused. "I didn't. Justin- I didn't remember."

Suddenly afraid, Justin asked, "What are you trying to say?"

Brian stood and walked away from him. Then returned to the sofa and sat. "I didn't know what I was doing. I was just a kid. I thought- I thought that was it. I started to go and he grabbed me and pushed me against the shower wall."

And unbidden came the image of Brian pushing him against the glass stall, kissing the side of his face.

"I..." He swallowed. "I couldn't say anything. My heart was beating so fast, I thought I was dying." Sniffling, he continued. "He pushed me against the wall and he fucked me. And then he finished showering. I got out and sat on the bench... but it hurt so bad that I got on my knees and just... knelt there. He dried off, and never looked back."

Justin wanted to go to him and hold him the way Michael had but something told him Brian didn't want to be touched, not at that moment.

Ignoring the tears that streaked his face, Brian made himself continue. "The first time you and I..." He could hardly get the words out, wanted to be anywhere but here, asking this, but he did. "That first time we were together I didn't-" He squeezed his eyes shut and the tears began afresh. "I didn't force you- I didn't hurt you, did I?"

At last Justin understood. He shook his head vehemently. "No. Brian, no."

"Because I can't be sure." He took a deep breath. "I can't be sure of any-"

"No." Firmly. "Never. You've never forced me. You never hurt me." And at that Brian did come to him and let him hold him as he wept from gratitude, from relief. "Do you think I would have come back if you had? That I would have wanted to be around you, be with you? Do you think," he began, voice tight with emotion, wiping away the tears that had sprung to his own eyes, "do you think I could love you if you had? If you had hurt me like that?" But Brian couldn't answer, could only hold onto his strong, young frame and shudder as the sobs racked his body. Justin raised Brian's head from his shoulder and kissed him gently upon his lips. His tears fell to mix with those on Brian's face. "I love you." 

 

Brian settled down to sleep, Justin having dropped off already, curled like a cat against his chest and side, sated from sex. They had moved tenderly, slowly against one another, tentatively at first, then with greater surety, but still gently. Spending most of their time kissing, lips traveling over warm skin and firm flesh, they lay close together, Justin's leg thrown over Brian's thigh, slippery cocks sliding lazily one against the other until the urge to thrust harder overtook them, and they came against one another's belly. Remembering how sweetly Justin had cried out into his mouth as he came, Brian cast his mind back to the first time they had had sex. _"I want you to always remember this," he had told the teen, "so that no matter who you're ever with, I'll always be there,"_ thinking he'd be rid of the kid in the morning. He remembered how Justin had looked at him with desire in his eyes, not knowing his intentions. And yet, he was still here. He thought of the teen saying to him tonight, "I love you," in a strong voice, unlike all the other times he had professed his love in a whisper. Brian looked down at the blond head, pressed into his ribs, and felt afraid for his own heart.

But each of those moments, and a hundred more, he imprinted in his memories, heedless of the danger.

 

Poetry: "Body, Remember," Constantine P. Cavafy, The Complete Poems of Cavafy, translated by Rae Dalven, Harcourt Brace & Company, 1989.


	25. Eyes In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian deals with rejection on two fronts   
> (Spoilers for Ep. 20 & 21)

**Note:** A huge “Thank You” to ++spin++ for the wonderful transcripts upon which this story is based. As such, this story is subject to revisions upon the airing of Episodes 20 and 21 in the U.S., because different people see different things in the same scenes. 

 

The image of Justin fucking Sean persisted long after he had gone home in a rage. As he lay in bed waiting for sleep to hammer him into unconsciousness, he was forced to replay the scene over and over in his head until he felt like shouting. _Smooth, young skin sliding against smooth, young skin. Justin’s full lips pressed against Sean’s neck, the tip of his tongue inscribing a spell that kept Sean enthralled. The two of them jerking against one another, the rest of the world forgotten. He knew, however, that he had only gotten as good as he had given._ On more than one occasion. And he knew that Justin had taken a lot more and a lot worse from him. He knew that. Only… Justin wasn’t him. Even at his weakest and worst moments with Cam he had never been as gloriously naïve as Justin, as trusting, as hopeful. As sweet. Sweet was not a word anyone would associate with Brian. Having Justin fling his own words back at him, _“He’s just my stalker,”_ hearing them from the other side, he wondered how Justin could ever have fallen for him. It amazed him. Finally, it was the knowledge that Justin did love him and would have given anything to have been with him— and not Sean— that gave Brian the peace of mind he needed to drift off to sleep.

Still, he awoke alone and angry the next morning. He almost skipped breakfast with the guys but he knew that if he did, they’d assume it was because of Justin and would never let him forget it. So, he swallowed his pride and put in an appearance, sulking, he knew. As much as he wanted to behave as if it hadn’t affected him, the guys kept goading and teasing him until he was almost to the point of grabbing a steak knife and doing serious damage to someone’s vital organs. He could have kissed that guy, Brent, for showing up when he did and momentarily diverting attention away from him. And then Justin arrived and his torment began again as the guys urged the teenager to divulge all of the sordid details of his night with Sean, which he did gleefully.

Listening to Justin tell how he had fucked Sean, Brian felt the first stirrings of a mild panic. Gripping his paper even tighter, he tried to clamp down on his feelings but could tell it would be only a matter of time before he surrendered to them. Desperately, he attempted to block out the sound of Justin’s voice, and was partially successfully until Justin said, “He wanted to know when he was gonna see me again.”

At that, Brian raised his head slowly and looked into Justin’s eyes. Against his will, he asked, “So what’d you tell him?” pulse rate increasing as he waited for Justin’s answer. He watched the teen’s blue eyes brighten as a prelude to a smile, having correctly interpreted Brian’s question as a not-so-subtle query concerning the status of their non-existent relationship.

”I told him he could see me in his dreams,” Justin replied still smiling.

Brian’s grim expression shifted to a slight grin. Not just at the choice of words, which had been his own, but because Justin had been tempted and had resisted, had returned to claim what he wanted most in the world: Brian.

They continued to stare at one another, oblivious to the rest of the gang, both aware, if no one else was, that something was changing between them. Only, neither of them was really sure if it would be for the better or the worse.

Despite all that had happened at breakfast, Brian wasn’t ready to face Justin alone. So, using errands as an excuse, he left without making further plans to meet. Somehow, they would connect and finish this. 

 

Glancing around the grocery store, he caught sight of Justin approaching from the rear. Raised an eyebrow. Set his basket down and waited.

Justin caught up to him and hesitated at the last moment, a little afraid of a confrontation now that their meeting was inevitable. But he managed a small, “Hey,” anyway.

Brian picked up his basket and started walking, trusting that Justin would follow. All the while he tried to think of what to say without sounding peevish or bothered or hurt. As they reached the produce section, he asked, “What do you know about cantaloupes?”

And Justin laughed, all was right between them again. Then, calling Brian’s bluff, the teen selected a melon, smelled and pressed the indentation where the stem had been. Rejected that one and tried another.

A woman approached them, eyeing the cantaloupes and observing Justin’s technique. “Is that how you do it? I’ve always wondered. I can never pick a good one. And I really love melon balls.”

”Well, he knows all about melons and other assorted balls,” Brian drawled.

Justin glanced at him and gave him a look that said, ‘Behave,’ and continued assaying the cantaloupes until he settled on two, giving one to the woman.

”Thanks,” she said smiling; then leaned in and whispered loud enough for Brian to hear, ”You’d better feed him pretty soon. I don’t think he can wait much longer for your balls. He’s practically salivating.”

Justin nearly choked with laughter as she winked and rolled her cart forward to continue shopping. Brian’s mouth hung open. Still laughing, Justin tugged on his arm. “Come on, I’m hungry too.” 

 

”How’d you know I’d be at the grocery store?” asked Brian before taking a big bite out of a roasted chicken sandwich, prepared by the master of the manse himself.

Lying naked on his belly and picking at his half of the sandwich, Justin snorted. “I lived with you for almost a month. You hate change. You always go to the same supermarket, at the same time of day every weekend, and buy the same things: bottled water, raisin bran, milk—”

” I get it. And I don’t hate change,” Brian argued, “I hate needless change.”

Justin declined to accept that challenge. ”So who’d you end up doing?” he asked.

”When?”

”Last night?”

Chewing reflectively for a few moments, Brian replied, “Why do you care?”

”I don’t,” Justin answered. “I was just making conversation.” Brian popped his bare buns. “Ow!” he yelped. Then grinned. “So you didn’t do anybody, did you?” pressed Justin, despite his reddened cheeks.

”If I tell you, will you drop it?” Justin nodded. “Fine. I didn’t do anybody. I came home and went to bed. I was tired. I’m not as young as I used to be. Or so I’ve been told,” he explained.

”Bri—“ began Justin but Brian had rolled over and off the bed. “I didn’t say it!” he exclaimed in his defense to an empty room. Brian had gone into the bathroom. Soon Justin heard the shower. Fuck. So things weren’t all right between them. He really had hurt Brian. Well, hurt his pride. Brian would never admit to anything else. He wanted to say, ‘Fuck it,’ after all Brian had said and done his share of shitty things to him. He had only given him a taste of his own medicine. But, of course, there was more to it than that. He had also wanted to make Brian jealous. Make him realize that he was desirable too. Now, he understood how Michael must have felt, how desperate he must have been to find one person who liked him best so that he could say to Brian, ‘See?’ Still, the very fact that they needed to prove something to Brian only proved that what they really wanted **was** Brian. Certainly, that was what Justin wanted, more than anything else in the world. Yet, as foolish as he felt now, he knew Brian had been affected by his actions. Why hadn’t he found someone else? The Brian he had met all those months ago would have picked up another trick and taken him home. But last night he had returned to the loft alone. Why?

Justin climbed out of bed and entered the bathroom where Brian was still showering. Opened the door to the stall and closed it behind him. Brian said nothing, just passed him the shower gel. Instead of soaping himself up, Justin squeezed a palm full of the gel, worked up a good lather, and began to run his hands over Brian’s body. “You’re still the hottest guy I know,” he said with his hands on Brian’s chest and abdomen. He felt Brian stiffen in his arms.

”You don’t know anybody,” countered Brian, pulling away.

Justin neared him again and began soaping him once more. “I can’t imagine anyone hotter than you.”

Brian pushed past him. “Obviously, you’ve got a limited imagination.”

However, he didn’t leave the shower so Justin understood that he was being given another chance. “I’m sorry.”

It was the wrong thing to say. “I don’t need your fucking pity,” growled Brian and he yanked open the shower door and snatched a towel from the rack.

Justin washed, then turned off the water and waited until Brian finished and had stomped off to the bedroom before exiting the stall to dry off too. By the time he returned to the bedroom, Brian had run out of steam and was sitting naked amidst the disarray that was the bed. His head moved almost imperceptibly as Justin entered. The teen watched the man sulk for a few moments and then he decided to speak despite the consequences. “I don’t want to be one of your back-up plans.” Brian gave no indication that he had heard Justin. “I always put you first.” At that Brian turned, but before he could protest, Justin added, “I’m not asking you to do that. Just— if you don’t want me, then say it. And I’ll go. Either you want me or you don’t,” he explained.

”I’ve told you before, I don’t do ultimatums,” Brian reminded him softly.

”It’s not an ultimatum. I’m just telling you what I won’t do,” Justin said in a much calmer voice than he had expected from the way his heart was racing. He stuck to his guns. “I won’t wait around anymore for you to decide if you can do better than me. That’s not fair, and I won’t do it.”

Brian refused to look at Justin as he spoke. “Fine. From now on, if I don’t intend to come home with you, I’ll just say it. Up front,” he clarified. “And you can do whatever and whomever you want.”

He hadn’t expected a declaration of love. But for Brian to agree to ground rules was something. This was as close to a commitment as he would get right now and he took it. Crawling onto the bed, he knelt behind Brian and wrapped his arms around him, content. Only he kept hearing inside his head the one question he hadn’t asked, _‘Why can’t you want me and only me all of the time?’_

 

Over the next few weeks they spent a great deal of time together, although Brian did manage to do two guys on the side, much to Justin’s disappointment. To his surprise, though, Brian didn’t flaunt them, seemed almost furtive in his arrangements. He set up his assignations online, scheduled them during Justin’s shifts at the diner, and showed his guests the door as soon as they had finished servicing him. After they were gone, he showered and laid in bed, dissatisfied, angry, and unfulfilled.

Both times Justin had called and asked to come over and both times Brian had refused, knowing he was in no mood to be gentle, and needing time to decipher the meaning behind his actions.

And both times, the day after, Justin managed to maneuver his way into Brian’s bed where they fucked for hours, taking the bitter taste of sterile couplings from the man’s mouth.

What did it all mean? 

 

He was surprised that Justin hadn’t asked to go to the Atlas Award dinner with him, not that he would have said yes in a million years. There were some things that even he wouldn’t do, and taking an eighteen year old teenager to an awards banquet was one of them. So he went with Cynthia and hoped there’d be somebody hot there to do. And there was. The presenter for this year’s award. Which he won. Not that anyone else had had a chance. He’d had a fantastic year despite failing to secure one important account and in spite of the Kip Thomas debacle.

As he accepted the award from Adam he definitely detected more than a flickering interest on Lyon’s part. So he hadn’t lost it completely.

Expecting nothing more than a quick fuck upstairs, he hadn’t been prepared for Adam to suggest that he leave Pittsburgh for Madison Avenue. “You’re too good for Pittsburgh, you should be in New York.”

That night he slept alone, having put Justin off with a lame excuse (and pun) about not feeling up to it. As if that would ever happen. In truth, he wanted time alone to think about Adam’s proposal. Moving to New York would mean a lot of changes and, as he had told Justin, he hated needless change. Would things be that much better in New York? He’d be giving up the security of Pittsburgh and his job for the uncertainty of Manhattan. In exchange for what? New environment, new job, new guys.

Justin.

The name and person forced its way to the forefront of his thoughts. Moving to New York would mean leaving Justin behind. Angrily, he told himself, ‘So?’ Justin would start college in the fall, would meet new people, have new experiences— Hell, he was already having new experiences— all of which meant that things would change between them, despite what the teen thought. And if Justin’s stunt with Sean was any indication, things wouldn’t necessarily change to Brian’s advantage. Maybe it was time for him to go.

The next morning, his mind made up, he faxed his resume to Kennedy & Collins before heading out to breakfast with the guys.

They were busy assessing the merits of the new waiter when Brian told them about the job offer and his decision to go for it. Justin’s face darkened upon hearing the news. “So, if you get this job, you’re leaving?” he asked.

”Not if,” replied Brian. “When.”

Justin looked as if someone had hit him in the head with a sledgehammer. After everything that had happened between them, Brian was thinking about moving to New York? Wanting to run and hide, he forced a smile and then walked away, hoping no one realized how truly shaken he really was. 

 

He had expected Justin to take it hard, to protest, to argue, and even to cry. What he hadn’t anticipated was how Justin’s reaction would affect him. As Brian held him, he felt his own throat constrict. Without a trace of carnal desire or intent, he kissed Justin’s cheek softly and felt the teen’s arms tighten around him. It frightened him, how much Justin seemed to need him, and it scared him, that he even cared enough to notice. _”What about me?” Justin had asked. And he had replied, “I’m sure you’ll get along just fine on your own.”But Justin had shaken his head saying, “No. I won’t.”_

For a split second he wished he could travel back in time to the night they had met, to the moment he had decided to walk out of Babylon. If he could, he would have told himself to stay inside just a little longer or leave a little sooner, anything to prevent his meeting Justin. And he wondered if anything or anyone could have made a difference. Maybe they had been fated to meet. He trembled at the thought and Justin stirred.

Tenderly, Brian eased Justin away from his chest and gently wiped the teenager’s face clean of tears with his fingers. As he started to turn away, Justin laid a hand upon his arm. “I need you,” he said and Brian understood that he meant right now, that he needed to be with Brian, needed to feel him inside of his body, to feel connected to him somehow, any way that he could.

Holding onto Brian’s muscular shoulders, feeling him move between his thighs, Justin gave himself over to the flood of sensations sweeping through his body. He tightened his thighs around Brian’s waist and shouted, caught in the grip of his climax. Fingers slipping from sweaty skin, he grabbed the duvet cover as Brian continued to plow into him, racing towards his own orgasm.

Afterwards, skin wet with sweat and semen, they held onto one another, shivering as body temperatures and pulse rates returned to normal. Justin curled against Brian’s chest and, despite his silent resolve not to, he cried, mourning the nights they would never have. For his part, Brian just laid still, eyes closed tightly, unwilling to witness the teen’s tears for fear of what he might do or say. They lay like this for a while until sleep, at last and mercifully, took them. 

 

He returned from New York confident that he had landed the job. The people at Kennedy & Collins were impressed by his resume, with his work, with him in person. He could see it in their eyes. Could see the hunger in a couple of the men’s eyes in the guise of professional interest. Like Adam, if given the opportunity, they would have gladly expanded the interview process to include more erotic lines of inquiry. As is, he had gotten the definite impression that his talents would be well appreciated at the firm. Only one thing marred the day— the fact that he continually compared each guy he met to Justin.

Having spent the night together, he had dropped the teenager off at Deb’s before driving to the airport to catch his early morning flight. As Justin had climbed out of the jeep, he had turned and fixed Brian with a sad smile and said softly, “Good luck.” Those two words had echoed in Brian’s mind all during the flight to New York and on the taxi ride to Midtown. It was only as he entered the building where Kennedy & Collins had their offices that he had been able to put Justin out of his mind.

Now, home again, he resigned himself to waiting for word of the firm’s decision. Meanwhile, he had to deal not only with Justin, but with Lindz too.

She stormed into the loft, pissed that he hadn’t told her about the interview and his plans to leave Pittsburgh. Even his attempt to put a positive spin on events by emphasizing all the things he could do for Gus in New York backfired. Finally, he came clean.

”Lindsay, if I stay here, I’m gonna go out of my mind. Who knows what I’ll become?” he told her and the truth of it terrified him. But she misinterpreted his fears, thought he was talking about growing old and maybe part of his fear had to do with that, but it also had to do with a feeling that had begun to grow inside him, that he was stagnating. “I wanna become something different, something new,” he said and he did, but that was only part of it.

This time she nailed him, honed in on his fears and without mercy exposed the root of those fears. “When are you gonna figure out that Justin really loves you?” The rest of her words were lost to him as he fought to control his reaction. He knew that Justin loved him; how could he not know? And he knew that the love Justin felt for him was real, was more than a boyish crush, he knew that. She was the one who seemed to have needed convincing. That Justin loved him was only part of the problem.

He walked away so that she wouldn’t see his face. The other part of the problem was that he was afraid he might actually love Justin. He was afraid that if he stayed in Pittsburgh he’d change into someone he didn’t recognize, someone with a lover, and a kid, and responsibilities— and it frightened him. He shuddered as he recalled her answer to his question: _”Who knows what I’ll become?” “Probably the same thing you are now, only older.”_ Christ, he didn’t want that, didn’t want to end up like Jack Kinney, still living in the past, unwilling to accept change— unable to accept the fact that he was no longer the hottest guy around. And yet, the thought of becoming something else, of maybe building a future with Justin, wasn’t exactly comforting either. 

 

”Yeah. Sure.” With two words Brian concluded his business with Kennedy & Collins. There was no job offer, no job. No decision to make about going or staying. He’d be stuck in Pittsburgh forever. Dropping the cell phone to the bed, he tried to regroup. Sat waiting for Justin to grow curious and come in to investigate.

In a few moments Justin appeared. “Something wrong?”

He shook his head. Nothing. And everything. 

 

He had done the right thing, telling Mikey to go to Portland with Dr. Dave. Even though his own plans had fallen through, he hadn’t fucked it up for Michael. He had put Mikey first, for once, and given him the best advice he could, _”Go with David. Get the hell out of here.”_

Even now, sitting at the bar, eavesdropping on their conversation, hearing Mikey tell David that he’d go to Portland, feeling his heart break, he still held to the belief that he had done good, that he had finally let Mikey go. And as long as one of them made it, he could go on, even though he felt as if everything had suddenly gone dark and he had lost his way. 

 

Justin reached for the vial of coke and Brian let him take it. He placed it on top of the chest of drawers and slid his arm around Brian’s bare waist. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Brian pulled away. “Nothing.”

”Then why do you need the coke?”

”I don’t need anything.” He paused. “Or anyone.”

Stung by Brian’s words, Justin said shakily, “Sometimes, it does hurt,” and he turned away as if to go but Brian caught hold of him.

”I didn’t get the job,” he confessed, releasing Justin. “And I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about anything.” He sat on the bed and cradled his head. An unshed tear gathered at the corner of his eye. “The guy who beat me out was twenty-five.” He gave a bitter, little laugh. “Almost five years younger than me.” He looked up at Justin. “And seven years older than you.” Then looked away as he said, “I’m losing tricks to twinks and jobs to twenty-five year old hot shots.” He stood and went to the kitchen, got out the bottle of Jim Beam.

Justin followed. “Don’t. Please.”

He paused with his fingers around the cap.

Without saying anything else, Justin returned to the bedroom, dropped off the remainder of his clothes, and waited.

He was sorely tempted to knock back a couple of shots despite Justin’s plea. He felt as if his entire world had fallen apart in less than a month. He would turn thirty soon and, instead of having a new lease on life, he would, as he had feared, be facing decline. Stumbling through the rest of his life knowing that he was no longer the best. And who would he turn to once Mikey had gone? No one knew him the way Mikey did, no one else understood him, understood what drove him to do the things he did, no one except Michael. Feeling more alone than he had in years, on the verge of opening the bottle and drinking away his sorrows, he heard a sound. Looked over to see Justin standing naked in the doorway of his bedroom. In the blue glow of the neon light over his bed, Justin looked almost angelic. He didn’t say anything, just waited for Brian to make a decision: the whiskey or him, the past or the future. Both choices unsettled him, so that he stood frozen in his indecision, trapped between the glory of days gone by and the unpredictability of days to come.

Then, finally, he set aside the bottle of Jim Beam and crossed to where the teen stood. Climbed the steps wearily and drew Justin to him, gleaning life from his youth, his goodness, his strength, and his love. As unfathomable as the future seemed, he was certain of one thing: he wasn’t alone.


	26. In The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin and Brian attend a show while Jennifer watches from the balcony. Occurs between Episodes 20 and 21. Inspired by Into the Woods by Stephen Sondheim.

The phone buzzed and he put down the latest report on the Connors account to answer. "Yeah."

Cynthia spoke. "There's a Justin Taylor on one." She rang off before he could respond.

He punched the clear button to access the line. "What?"

"Hey," replied Justin.

Brian began again. "Hey. Now, what do you want?"

"I want to go see _Into the Woods_. It's a musical by-"

"I know what it is and who wrote it."

Justin tested him. "Who?"

"Stephen Sondheim."

"I'm impressed."

"So what does your going to the show have to do with me?" He flipped through the Connors report and put a sticky note on one page and scribbled a correction.

"I want you to come with me."

"That's a date."

"Don't you think we're past the date stage? You and Michael and the guys do stuff all the time."

Opening a file on his computer, he replied, "I'm not fucking them so it doesn't count."

"Don't fuck me then."

Brian waited.

"At least not tonight," Justin added. "Then it won't count as a date."

"Can't tonight. I've got plans." He removed a page from the report and crumpled it in his fist, tossed it in the trashcan.

"Babylon or Woody's or both?"

Okay, so he had a point. Giving a long-suffering sigh, he asked, "When is it?"

"Eight o'clock."

"Where?" Justin named a theatre downtown. "There's a pretty decent Indian restaurant near there." He paused. "Be at my place by five-thirty. You got tickets?"

"Not yet."

Shaking his head, Brian said, "I'll get Cynthia to do it. And no jeans." He severed the connection and dialed Cynthia's extension. "Get me two tickets to _Into the Woods_ for tonight, best seats they have left, and make a reservation for two at The Taj. Six o'clock." Hanging up, he made a few additional notations on the report and tossed it in his 'Out' box. 

 

As the elevator approached the sixth floor Justin hoped he looked okay. Brian wasn't too pleased about this whole date/not-a-date situation and the least little thing might cause him to back out. Justin had shown his outfit to Deb and Vic and gotten Vic's approval. Deb was many things, tasteful wasn't one of them. After many changes he finally decided on a pair of charcoal grey pants topped with a clingy cream-colored sweater that showed off his lean torso. Pulling the door to the loft open, he hoped his ensemble met with Brian's approval.

Brian exited his bedroom carrying one brown leather boot. Justin paused where he stood, struck, as always, by Brian's beauty. Straying from his customary black, he had slipped on a pair of buttery slacks that hugged his slender hips and thighs. But it was the sweater that arrested the eye. Colored a burnt sienna that picked up the russet highlights in his hair, the sweater appeared burdened by gravity, in that the neckline continually slipped down onto one shoulder or the other, exposing his collar bone to scrutiny. He looked tawdry in the tradition of the great femme fatales of film in the early 50's. Not quite obviously gay but androgynous in his sensuality: the red lips offset by the strong jaw, the graceful neck by the muscular chest.

Plopping down in a dining chair, he put on his other shoe and glanced around at Justin. "You ready?" Justin nodded, distracted again by the sight of Brian's body, exposed by the flirtatious sweater. Brian rose and retrieved his tan overcoat from the closet, grabbed his keys. "Come on. We've got reservations at six."

Justin breathed easier as they left the apartment, so far so good. 

 

"So what changed your mind?" asked Justin, tearing off a piece of naan and dipping it into a sweet chili sauce.

"The fact that I wouldn't have heard the end of it if I didn't." He rolled his eyes. "You're persistent, if nothing else," he confessed.

Justin blushed and then recovered, saying, "I like this restaurant." Brian laughed as he had intended. "I didn't know you liked musicals."

"I don't," replied Brian. "Just Sondheim."

"Cause he's gay?"

"Because he's good."

Justin, distracted again by Brian's lips as he spoke, dipped his naan in a very pungent and hot chili sauce.

Brian started to warn him, "I wouldn't-" but it was too late. The teen chomped down on the bread and swallowed. Brian waited. In an instant Justin's face turned red and he started to cough. Brian handed him a glass of water. "Drink this." Shook his head. "Babies." Between racking coughs, Justin finished off his glass and Brian's. Finally, his color returned to normal. Trying not to laugh, Brian asked, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," replied Justin clearing his throat.

With Justin out of danger, Brian burst out laughing. He clamped down on it as the waiter hurried over and refilled their glasses. "Leave the pitcher," Brian said smiling devilishly.

"It's not funny, Brian," rasped Justin.

Brian wiped his eyes and tried to keep a lid on his bubbling amusement. "Sorry," he managed before giving into another fit of laughter.

"You'll pay," Justin promised ominously.

With Justin's full attention, Brian dipped a piece of bread into the same pungent sauce and ate the naan with no visible side effects. "Bring it on."

Mind a whirl, Justin plotted. 

 

Alone again. Since they had filed for divorce, they had stopped doing anything together. Not that they had gone to very many shows together anyway. Craig was always too busy for the theatre. She had almost called Justin but figured he'd be with Brian. Lately, whenever she had tried to reach him he was out with the man doing God knows what. Deb had admitted that he spent more nights at Brian's loft than he did at her house. Jennifer had been to Brian's apartment, so she had no worries on that front, that Justin was in an unsafe environment. At least not physically. She was still certain, however, that her son was treading dangerous waters emotionally and nothing she had seen or heard about Brian Kinney had dispelled her fears.

Looking down from her seat in the first row of the balcony, she saw them arrive. First Brian, commanding nearly everyone's attention in a sluttish, rust-colored sweater that managed to slide over one shoulder each time he moved. Men and women both tracked him with their eyes as he found their seats, and took one, and crossed his lengthy legs. She was reminded of nothing so much as a sword with a decorated blade, hilt, and sheath to distract the hapless from the fact that it was still a weapon, designed to cut and slash and stab.

Justin followed dutifully behind and, she was proud to see, no few eyes marked his route. He seemed to flaunt himself less than Brian, having dressed in a rather conservative outfit- at least compared to his date- although she thought the sweater was too tight.

Having flipped through the program, Brian leaned over and said something to Justin which caused the teen to turn and smile. It really was his best feature and she could tell that even Brian was affected. He pursed his lips, beautiful like the rest of him she imagined, and faced the front of the theatre again.

As the house lights went down and the curtain rose, she turned her attention to the show and tried to forget that her eighteen-year-old son and his twenty-nine-year-old lover were seated in the house below her. 

 

As the cast sang "I Wish," Justin glanced over at his companion. If anyone had asked him, he would have said that what he wished for more than anything was for Brian to admit that he loved him. He knew that the man did love him, it would have been impossible for them to have shared the things they did and still have kept love from sprouting up between them. Only, it was such a fragile thing, needing constant and patient care to make sure that it survived, that it thrived and flourished. Balance was what it required more than anything, it was essential that he maintain that delicate balance required to keep their relationship going: giving Brian enough space that he felt independent and yet not so much that he felt neglected. And he wished that he didn't need Brian as much as he did, wished that his life had not become so entwined with the older man's, but it was too late, there was no turning back as Brian himself had told him, not realizing that those very words could apply to them as well as to Justin's other life choices. He was no fool, he knew that there were many more tearful confrontations ahead of him, many more lonely and frustrated nights, many more negotiations and compromises and sacrifices. The work had only just begun.

Having lazily followed the action on stage during the first few numbers, Brian's awareness sharpened as he watched Little Red Riding Hood deal with the Wolf on her way to Grandmother's house in the woods. Listening to the Wolf's lines as he tempted the little girl to leave the safe path, _"So many worth exploring,/ Just one would be so boring,"_ he was struck by the familiarity of the situation. He supposed that Deb and Jennifer would say that's what he had done to Justin, tempted him from the secure path onto a road that was less certain. And were all of his promises just as empty, as false and misleading as the wolf's? But he had never promised Justin anything. Verbally. He supposed that he had given the teen enough mixed messages that the boy was probably confused and rightfully so. So much for honesty. Disturbed, Brian let his attention stray again and it was only after Little Red Riding Hood and her Grandmother had been rescued from the Wolf's belly by the Baker that he was able to reengage in the story. Singing about what she had learned, Little Red Riding Hood admitted that although the lesson had been a frightening one, _"And he made me feel excited…/ Well, excited and scared,"_ she was wiser for having been through what she had. Looking at Justin out of the corner of his eye Brian wondered if Justin would feel that way someday about them.

 _"Who out there, could love you more than I?/ What out there, that I cannot supply?"_ As the Witch sang these words to Rapunzel, pleading with her not to go, to _"Stay at home/I'm at home,"_ Justin thought of his own mother and how she had pleaded with him to come back home, warning him that Brian would break his heart, that he wasn't ready for that world, _"Stay with me, the world is dark and wide,"_ and that he was still a child despite his protests. _"Stay a child, while you can be a child./ With me,"_ the Witch sang hoping her love would be enough but it wasn't, and Rapunzel chose the world out there to one she had known all her life. He remembered how scared he had been when Brian had said, "Justin. You coming?" not quite sure if he was ready to leave home, but he had been even more afraid of losing Brian, of turning his back on the feeling that he had finally found a place where he belonged, and so he had gone, unsure of the future but determined to try. Still he missed his parents and Molly, he missed being a child, not having to think about so many things, secure in the knowledge that his parents loved him, that they would protect him, _"Don't you know what's out there in the world?/ Someone has to shield you from the world."_ The world had been a safe place then. He thought of the Saturday afternoons his mom and he would spend together, just the two of them, and he wondered who went to the museums with her now, who went shopping with her, and to the movies that his dad and Molly didn't want to see. And now that his mom and dad were getting a divorce, who did she turn to for comfort? As hard as he tried, he couldn't keep a tear from falling, because he loved her, and needed her, and missed her. Miserable, hoping Brian hadn't seen the tear, Justin felt a hand take his. Daring a glance at Brian, he saw him looking straight ahead, seemingly unaware and unconcerned, yet his strong fingers were laced with Justin's and he held his hand until the intermission. Afraid that people would see, Justin started to withdraw his hand, but Brian held on a moment past lights up and challenged, with his eyes, anyone to say a word. A woman in the seat next to Justin smiled approvingly and rose to join the restroom bound.

"Do you want to go?" Justin asked.

"Do you?" replied Brian.

"No."

"Then we stay." Standing, stretching his legs, Brian leaned against the empty seats in front of them. His sweater had decided to slide over his shoulder again and Justin couldn't keep his eyes off of him. "You okay?"

Lying, "Yeah."

Brian nodded. "I like that sweater."

Justin laughed. "I think everybody likes yours."

Shifting so that it slipped over the opposite shoulder, Brian grinned. "Does it make you want me?"

Justin smiled. He didn't have to answer that question. And Brian didn't need that sweater. 

 

Jennifer hadn't seen what happened to make Brian take Justin's hand, but she had seen him letting go of it and surmised that something had occurred, whether good or bad she couldn't tell. She had expected them to exit so that Brian could have a smoke, Justin had told her that he smoked too much, but they remained inside. Brian did get up to stretch his legs. It had to be uncomfortable for him, he was six-three and a half Justin said, having measured him once he told her. She hadn't asked what else he had measured, but could imagine where the activity had led. Watching them talk, she noticed that Brian seemed to be actually listening to Justin and responding appropriately and not at all with that aloof and disinterested tone she had heard him affect. He shrugged in response to one of Justin's questions and that indecent sweater he was wearing slipped down on one side exposing once more his beautiful neck and shoulder. She could see why Justin had fallen for him. He did present a pretty package. Only, she was old enough to know that the prettiest packages didn't always contain the best presents.

God, she had almost started crying when the Witch had sang to Rapunzel. All the things that she had said to Justin, the Witch had used to convince her daughter not to go out into the world, and with as little result. The girl had gone, just as Justin had gone. Maybe if Craig hadn't been so angry, so intractable about his requirements, Justin might have stayed. She could tell that he had been afraid to go with Brian, but he hadn't been given much choice. At least Brian offered hope, little as it was, home had promised none. She wished- she wished she could go back to that day and be a little bit more forceful with Craig, demand that he leave Justin some room to grow, to explore in appropriate ways who he was becoming. But she hadn't and Justin had gone and, soon, Craig would be gone as well.

Molly, at least, still had her; what would happen to Justin all on his own? 

 

Two lines from the second act stayed in his mind as they drove back to the loft: _"Mother cannot guide you, now you're on your own./ Only me beside you, still you're not alone."_ He looked to the man beside him, lost in his own thoughts or maybe completely engaged in the act of driving, Justin couldn't tell. He wasn't alone. He did have Brian, no matter how many protests he made to the contrary, no matter how many harsh words they had, when he really needed Brian, he was there. And he believed that no matter what, no matter how they ended things, Brian did care, even if he didn't always know how to show it. He reached out and touched the back of Brian's neck, ruffling the hair at the nape, and Brian pulled away and gave him an annoyed look. Justin laughed. If he ever changed… 

 

Brian washed his hands, aware of Justin moving in closer behind him.

"I've been wanting to do this all evening."

"What?" Brian asked.

Justin slid his hands underneath the man's sweater. He could feel every muscle in Brian's torso shift as he ran his hands over his skin. He spread his fingers over Brian's nipples and along his ribs, across his shoulders and down the center of his back. "God, that feels so good," Justin whispered and it did, but it wasn't enough. He unbuttoned Brian's trousers and unzipped them slowly, at the end of which he knelt and drew both the trousers and underwear down. Brian obliged him by stepping out of his clothing. But the sweater stayed on. Justin stood and reached beneath the sweater again, this time allowing his hands to roam Brian's torso and thighs, his hips and buttocks. It amazed Justin that it could feel so good, so dirty, just touching Brian, and that the lascivious sweater made all the difference.

Slowly he drew the sweater up over Brian's hips and reached for his cock. Brian moaned as Justin stroked him. It made him hot, that Justin was so turned on by his being half-naked. Brian opened his eyes and glimpsed himself in the mirror, mouth slightly open, dick stiffening from Justin's attention. One side of the sweater rode up over his chest as Justin teased his left nipple, still stroking his cock. As he watched, Justin released him.

He ran his hands over Brian's buttocks, letting one slide between his cheeks to grasp the man's cock from behind. Justin rubbed Brian's scrotum gently, rolling his balls in the palm of his hand until Brian's dick began to peek from beneath his sweater. With his free hand he unzipped his own pants and freed his half-hard cock from its confines.

Brian looked over his shoulder. "Take it all off."

Justin obeyed, discontinuing his delicious stroking to remove his clothing as quickly as possible. Once he was done, Brian lifted him onto the counter top and proceeded to blow him. Justin's hair brushed against the mirror as Brian sucked him off. He grabbed hold of the faucet in one hand and Brian's hair in the other. His feet perched on the edge of the counter, Justin rode out several waves of exquisite pleasure before Brian stood and retrieved the condoms and lube. But instead of putting it on himself, he unrolled the condom over Justin's cock and squeezed a thick stream of lube over the tip. Spread it down the shaft. That done, he faced the sink and held on.

No further instructions needed, Justin got down and positioned himself behind Brian. Lifting the edge of the sweater, he rubbed his erection against Brian's cheeks, in the valley between his buttocks. Brian clenched his muscles trying to trap the slippery shaft between them, but he couldn't. Besides, what he really wanted was to feel the teenager's cock inside his ass. Lubing his fingers, Justin eased one inside Brian's tight hole. The man gasped and then sighed as the teenager worked his finger in and out of his rectum, loosening him up. Then in one moment the finger slid out and Justin's cock took its place. Brian held his breath as he was entered and then exhaled, Justin's dick pushing up inside him, seeming to chase the air from his lungs. Knowing that Brian liked to be ridden long and hard, Justin tried to take his mind off of what he was doing, to let his body take over and to ignore his growing state of arousal. If he could just keep it together for a while, give Brian what he wanted…

Leaning over the sink, Brian took note of Justin's improved technique. So his topping Sean did have unforeseen benefits. The teen slowed his strokes and concentrated on letting Brian feel his entire cock as it advanced and retreated. He varied the depth of his strokes, the angle, exploring Brian's entire hole, while rubbing his face against Brian's shoulders and back, sweaty flesh exposed by the titillating sweater. Brian liked to think that Justin had learned from his example and that his experiences with Sean had been good practice. He reached back, laying a hand upon Justin's pumping hips, feeling the muscles tense and relax as they fucked. His breath steamed the mirror.

Finally, despite his resolve, Justin felt his climax was imminent. Giving Brian a few more hard thrusts, he withdrew and tore off the condom, pushed up Brian's sweater, and jerked off on his back and buttocks, groaning as he splattered Brian's flesh with creamy cum. When he was done, he rubbed his spunk over Brian's skin, spreading it in wide swirls. Then, as Brian straightened up, Justin grabbed his cock and tugged on it while thrusting a finger up Brian's ass. Brian held onto the edge of the basin and panted while Justin jerked him off roughly. His dick felt raw but he could only whisper, "Yeah. Yeah," as he hurtled towards his orgasm. Belly muscles contracting, he came, showering the basin and the mirror behind it with his juices. Justin waited until Brian's hole relaxed to remove his finger. Then he lifted the fabulous sweater, leaned in, and kissed Brian's bare back.

Laying together in bed, Justin's head on his chest, Brian thought about their evening. It hadn't been half-bad, spending time alone with Justin, away from the loft and the guys. He'd actually enjoyed it. Christ. Brian Kinney dating. What was-

"If you could wish for anything, what would it be?" Justin asked, disturbing his thoughts.

For you to shut up, Brian said to himself. Then thinking a bit, he replied softly, "For Gus to grow up better than I did."

Justin brushed his fingers over Brian's chest and kissed his warm skin. "He's lucky to have you guys." He paused. "So am I." Brian said nothing, but he didn't dispute the claim either. Satisfied, Justin closed his eyes and smiled. 

 

Brian looked up to see Justin's mom coming through the door without any warning from Cynthia. Putting on his best neutral face, he waited for her to make the first move.

She handed him a package covered in a dowdy piece of wrapping paper. "It's for Justin."

"I didn't think it was for me." Taking it in hand, he asked, "Why didn't you drop it off at Deb's?"

"Because I know he spends more time with you." When Brian didn't protest her assertion, she continued. "I saw you. Last night at the theatre."

"And?" He remained noncommittal.

Jennifer took a deep breath before answering. "And… although I still think you're too old for him, he could have done worse."

Barking a laugh, Brian smirked. "A lot worse."

Against her better judgment, Jennifer smiled. His brashness was infectious at times. "So you'll give it to him when you see him?"

Unable to cede the point, he corrected her. " **If** I see him."

Having secured as much of a promise as she was going to from him, she left. He watched her exit his office, then put the package safely away in his briefcase. 

 

Closing the door after Justin came in with a bag full of ingredients for their dinner, Brian grabbed Jennifer's gift from his desk. "Your mom dropped this off."

"She came here?" Justin asked, leaving off unpacking the bag to take the present.

"My office. I guess she thinks it's neutral territory." He peeked in the bag to see if he could figure out what they were having.

Justin unwrapped his surprise. It was a CD, the original Broadway cast recording of Into the Woods. "How'd she know?"

"She was there," Brian explained and he left Justin with his present and dinner, removed some papers from his briefcase intending to finish up a couple of leftover tasks.

Attached to the jewel case was a note: "No matter what, you're not alone," it said. Blinking back tears, he crossed to the stereo and put on the CD. Brian lifted his head but said nothing, returned to his work.

As Justin prepared dinner, he thought of the courage it must have taken for his mom to go see Brian and to give him this present, to hand her son over to him, whether Brian realized it or not. Retreating to the bedroom, he dialed his old number, waited for her to answer. "Hey. I got the CD. Thanks. Yeah, I…"

Listening to Justin talk to his mom, Brian wondered what it would have been like if he could have talked to Joanie the way Justin could with Jennifer, wondered if he would have become a different person if only he could have told her about the things that had happened to him, about the things that were happening to him at the time. To have been able to go to her and tell her about his gym teacher instead of having to hide it all these years, even from himself… What would that have meant in terms of his life? Maybe nothing. _Now you know what's out there in the world./ No one can prepare you for the world._ He tightened his jaw. There was no point in giving in to self-pity. He had made the choices he had and there was no going back. Only forward. He took out his cell phone and started to dial his mom- they hadn't spoken a great deal since the funeral fiasco- but he couldn't. She was gone, had been lost to him for a long time. He remembered the words of the song, _Sometimes people leave you, halfway through the woods_. That's what she had done, left him in the middle of his growing up; even though they lived in the same house and she washed his clothes and fixed his meals, she hadn't really been there. And so, gradually, he had drifted away too. Now, there was no way they could find each other again. It was too late and, try as he might, he couldn't imagine the man he might have been if things had been different, maybe a man like the one Justin was becoming; and he wondered what kind of man his own child would become under his guidance.

"So what part did you like best?" Justin asked Jennifer, having stretched out on the bed, dinner forgotten for the moment, lost in the joy of talking to his mom.

Brian dialed a number on his cell phone and when Lindz picked up, he said, "Let me speak to my son." Waited. Then purred, "Hey, Sonny Boy," and Gus cooed, recognizing his Dadda's voice on the phone. Brian smiled. 

_Careful the things you say,  
Children will listen,   
Careful the things you do,   
Children will see.   
And learn._

 

 _Into the Woods_ , Lyrics and Music by Stephen Sondheim, 1987.


End file.
